Playing Shadows
by magakee
Summary: Love starts to come second-hand compared to what's working to destroy the lives of every living member of the barricades left. Sequel to Moonless Skies; E&E.
1. A Lie

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Les Miserables or the characters, though I wish I did.  
_

**A/N: **_Well, it's been a while but I've finally decided to start the sequel :) It picks up right where Moonless Skies ends off and if you haven't read that go do that because this won't make too much sense without it. I've got big things planned for the story and, as always, I really appreciate your reviews, follows, and favourites xx Enjoy!_

...

**A Lie**

"A toast," Grantaire chimed, the brandy in his cup swaying with his drunken steps as he paced around the table, "to our newlyweds!"

Joly and Julie blushed, clinking their own cups together and chuckling as the rest did the same with a hearty cheer.

"May your years be filled with happiness and love!" Cosette added, a hint of bitterness in her voice but a smile that lit up the room on her face.

The table they all sat around stretched out to cover the entire hall, Les Amis sitting near the left side and Joly and Julie's families sitting farther to the right, the pale moon and the lanterns around them illuminating their surroundings . Bouquets of flowers rested in between roast chickens, a mushroom and beef stew, rice, and roasted potatoes and Grantaire had generously brought the alcohol, especially the brandy which he had enjoyed several glasses of.

Eponine glanced periodically behind her to the two small cribs Juliette and Henri slept soundly in and breathed a sigh of relief every time she saw his tiny chest rising slowly.

It had been nearly three hours that he had fallen asleep, seven hours since the initial wedding and eight hours since Eponine had forgotten the dangers of the streets outside and that her heart had been torn to pieces earlier.

Etienne Enjolras, the man who she had spent a very regretful night with, conceived a child from, and fallen in and out of love with had made it excruciatingly clear that whatever affection they had managed to keep for one another was pointless because things would never return to the way they were, or at least, the way she wanted them to be. They would be better off accepting that before doing anything else. And so, the man who sat across the table from her, who looked cold and angry and happy all at once, who made eye contact with her every once in a while to make sure she was fine, was also the man who she felt a deep hatred and passion for that she didn't know existed.

Yet, she swayed in a mixture of dismay and confusion and something that felt like grief but couldn't possibly be because, as odd as it was, she didn't really care for the way he acted. Sure, it was heartbreaking to know that yet another man could not stand to love her, but for some reason, she didn't care whether or not this man loved her or not.

"You're staring into space." Azelma enunciated, waving her hand in front of the waif's face furiously.

She blinked a few times and faced her sister, "W-what?"

"I've been calling your name for five minutes, what an Earth are you thinking about?"

"I – I'm just tired. Henri's been keeping me up lately."

"Oh," she shook her head, "well try not to think about that right now. We're trying to have fun tonight and I don't want you to be sad. You deserve to have fun tonight, isn't that right Enjolras?"

The man's head snapped up and he smirked at the two sisters, "What are you on about now _Mademoiselle_?"

Eponine stifled a laugh and Azelma mocked him before saying, "Doesn't Eponine deserve to have fun tonight?"

"Of course, why wouldn't she?"

"Exactly!" She turned towards the waif, "Oh 'Ponine, I know it's tough being a mother but don't drive yourself mad because of it."

"I won't 'Zelma, I promise." She tried to smile but the lack of truth in her grin made Enjolras scowl before he looked away and took another sip of his brandy and Azelma huffed and returned to her conversation with Courfeyrac.

_Is it terribly obvious_, she thought, hoping her cheeks weren't turning the bright crimson colour they always did, _that I can't?  
_  
It wasn't Henri, or her lack of sleep, or even the fact that Enjolras couldn't love her back – it was that no man ever could. She had gone through Montparnasse in her youth, Marius during the last few years and now the _father _of a child she'll have to face every day. She felt like an idiot holding that bitter seed within her, yet, how could she not? Her sister was falling in love with her friend, Joly and Julie were married, Cosette and Marius have a child as well – and then there is her. The lonely waif with an unlucky streak of losing every man she touched. But she was at a wedding, and no matter how hard the task was, she had to at least look happy, for her friends' sake.

With a smile plastered on her face, she punched Azelma's shoulder and watched as her sister rejoiced in her own happiness and swept her into the conversation and into the rest of the night.

...

After another three hours, Marius and Cosette had taken Juliette home, Julie and Joly's parents and families had returned to their inn across the street, and Courfeyrac and Grantaire had offered to take Azelma back home. Only the newlyweds and the soon to be divorcees remained, one pair snuggling by the remaining flames that crackled in the fireplace and the others ignoring one another to the best of their abilities.

Eponine leaned against the brick wall leading to the upper level of the church sourly and Enjolras paced the front entrance with his hands stuffed into his pockets, still bothering to check on Eponine now and then with a quick glance.

"Congratulations, I mean it." The man mentioned briefly to Joly as he moved past them, holding a box full of decorations and setting it by the door.

"Thank you," he patted him on the back and chuckled, "I can't believe I'm married."

"Neither can I -" he tried to smile but seemed conflicted with his choice of words, "I know you two will be happy with one another."

"I know we will be. Thank you, friend." He motioned for Julie to come and he propped the door open with his leg, "We'll be back if you need any help."

"Oh no, no. We were just on our way out. I've got to put Henri to sleep anyways." Eponine added quickly, hesitantly joining Enjolras after she had taken her son out of his make shift crib. She tucked that underneath her arm and watched as the man took it from her with a smirk.

They bid farewell to Julie and Joly one last time and stepped out the door.

"Let's go."

...

The air seemed particularly cold and unruly as the two made their ways down each rue, Eponine holding Henri tightly to her chest and covering him with her own jacket and Enjolras seeming to be deep in thought as he navigated them to their apartments.

"Did you enjoy yourself after all?"

The sudden comment caught Eponine off guard, "Hm?"

"Did you enjoy yourself?" He repeated, annoyance ringing in his voice.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"That wasn't very convincing." He remarked.

Eponine's mouth hung open a little bit and she shook her thoughts loose, "What do you want?"

"I want you to be honest with me. You were staring at the wall above my head for nearly five hours after the wedding; do you honestly think I believe that you were okay?"

It was her turn to be annoyed, "No, I honestly don't!"

Henri squirmed uncomfortably and she lowered her voice, "You've obliterated my sanity, Enjolras."

"That was a nice choice of words." He raised an eyebrow and took their son from her and watched as she stood in place, turning the colour of red he had seen her turn a thousand times over by now.

"Stop it! How can you act like nothing hurts you?" Eponine flinched suddenly, knowing she had struck a nerve with the man, knowing that in the five months since Henri was born and their relationship as parents had blossomed, he hated being told that he was indifferent and cold.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, "I'm sorry."

He sighed as well, shaking his head, "It was because of me, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Because of what I told you about how we could never love one another?"

"Yes."

"Does that honestly bother you?" He met her eyes and she looked away, "I know you don't have any affection left for me in your heart, so why bother caring?"

She shook her head, "Because that's who I am. I can't just let things go Enjolras; it takes time for me to heal."

He nodded.

"But I'm glad that we spoke. I know things will never be the way they were, and –" she took a prolonged breath, "and I'm glad."

"Good."

She looked up and found herself standing in front of their new homes. Enjolras had purchased two apartments next-door to one another for himself and the waif just a month ago, after earning enough money from teaching history at a local university.

After she had taken Henri and his crib from him, she opened her door and stepped into her home with a sour taste left in her mouth.

How could she have admitted how she felt to Enjolras? Even if how she felt _was_ blatantly obvious, she didn't know why she had thought that he would care, or that he would apologize for making her feel so useless right before their friends' wedding. He was Enjolras, and the best that she could get from him was a nod – she was lucky she even got a '_good' _in return. If she was ever going to be happy, she had to move on from him, and from every man that had held a place in her heart at all.

And starting from that day, she promised herself that she would.

Enjolras opened the door to his apartment, after making sure the waif went inside safely, then slammed it shut behind him and sank against the door.

...

"_Good_." He spat miserably, chuckling harshly at his choice of words. No matter what he did, he always managed to make her feel as though she was trapped with a monster for the rest of her life. As though one night had bound her to the devil.

He had changed after the barricades, after becoming a father, and she knew that. Yet, no matter how hard anybody tried, he was still the man of marble, the young man who was as charming as he was terrible – even to himself.

He slammed his fist into the ground and yelped. How could he ever make Eponine see how much he loved her without scaring her away? Without making that crevice of himself that had inhabited his body when he lost his memory come back? How could he ever make her see that he was killing himself trying to rid himself of what he felt for her?

He had tried to forget her, tried to remind himself that he had wedded a young woman who was the daughter of criminals, whose only clothes used to be rags and whose only aspirations were to marry Marius and somehow rid herself of her miserable past. But over the course of time she had become the beautiful, intelligent, and strong woman he was lucky to have ever spent that ridiculous night with. He had thanked the bottle of _Chablis_ he had washed down before he encountered her so many nights ago and thanked that part of his mind that had made her love him during those brief few weeks he fell ill a thousand times over.

Somehow, Eponine Jondrette Thenardier had wedged herself into his heart, and the only was he would be happy living with the fact that he loved a woman who could never love him back was by telling her to move on and find someone who would truly love her back. Someone she wouldn't have to fight for or cry over. Someone she could spend a lifetime with without being reminded of something they had but could never reconcile.

He sat in his own bitter thoughts for the rest of the night, leaning against the wall that separated them, wishing that he could go to his family, but knowing that they would be happier without him.

He did this until everything finally faded to black.


	2. A Job

**A/N: **_Thank you all for your responses, I really appreciate it :) Sorry for the late update btw, there was a LOT going on during the last few weeks, but I'll try to update once a week from now on. Thanks a bunch xx_

**A Job**

Eponine twiddled her thumbs anxiously, watching the man seated in front of her ponder the piece of cloth she had given him with narrowed eyes.

"Sir?" She scoffed, looking behind her then back to him, "Is there something wrong?"

A smile played upon the man's lips until he let out a small chuckle and replied by ripping the cloth in half.

"I do hope that answered your question _Mademoiselle_; I've made my answer quite clear."

Eponine bit her tongue and shook her head, "It hasn't. Was my sewing not sufficient enough for your _establishment_?"

The man's jaw dropped a little before he said, "Oh dear, you really don't understand do you?"

"No, I don't! _Monsieur_, what have I done wrong?"

The man slammed his hands down furiously on the table separating himself from the waif and looked into her petrified eyes, "You are not fit to work. You've shown not only the inability to sew and knit for the factory, but you have also shown extreme aggression towards myself and your peers. Not to mention your illegitimate child…"

"Henri is not illegitimate!"

He laughed and turned away from her, seemingly indifferent to her anger, "Suit yourself _Mademoiselle_, but I've already made up my mind. You're not working at the factory, and that's that."

She bit her tongue and took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the need for money and purpose, "_Monsieur_ I _need _this job. I've scowered all of Paris –"

"Then it looks like you're out of luck." He proceeded to tidy his things up until he was halfway through the door to his office.

"Please! I beg of you, I'll be on the streets! My, uh, husband cannot support our family alone."

"Husband?" He turned back towards her, "You've failed to mention you're married."

"Does that change anything?"

"Hardly. You're still a waif, not mention a liar. You have no place in our establishment _Mademoiselle _Thenardier. Good day."

He shut the door behind his footsteps and Eponine stood alone in the factory, tears welling up in her eyes and embarrassment causing her cheeks to turn a bright crimson.

"Go to hell!" She shouted after him, running out of the factory, not stopping until she had arrived at her doorstep.

...

"You – what?" Enjolras clenched his teeth and shook his head in disbelief.

Marius stood in front of him, eyes full of confusion and hurt, "I can't do this anymore."

"Why? Why can't you? What's stopping you from loving that woman like you did before?"

He took a breath then spat, "Because I _cannot_."

He turned in his spot, hands flying up to his hands in frustration. He paced back and forth in front of the man of marble, trying to contain himself but losing himself further with every step.

"I try to look at her the way I used to, I try to tell myself that I made her father the _promise _of caring for her for the rest of my life, I try to think that Juliette will grow up fatherless – and none of it works!" He punched the wall and Enjolras stepped back, eyes widening.

He ran to Marius and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him, "Stop!"

"My life's going to fall apart!" He broke free of the man's grip and propped his hand up on a chair, "Enjolras – _I won't have anything left if I leave her._"

"You're wrong."

He shook his head, "No - I'm ruined."

The man clicked his tongue, "Fine. What do you want to do about it?"

Marius shot his hands up then shrugged, "Keep trying."

Somewhere inside his heart the man felt a twinge of sympathy, but shook his head clear of it before he said something he regretted.

"Cosette doesn't deserve to be thrown aside, you know very well that people have done that to her her whole life, and that she doesn't deserve to have that happen to her again. Be honest with her."

"So I should tell her I don't love her?" He laughed bitterly, "She'll either kill me or die of shock before she gets the chance."

Before Enjolras could open his mouth to protest, a knock sounded at the door and Marius froze.

"Calm down, I'll go check who it is."

Rolling his eyes, he moved closer to the door, prying it open gently and sighing when he met the eyes of the anxious looking girl behind it.

"Enjolras, I need to speak with you. Something happened." She whispered, her eyes darting back and forth.

He put a finger on his lips and opened the door a little further to reveal Marius, who seemed like he was in a ridiculous mix of embarrassment and regret.

"I should leave." He sputtered.

Eponine's eyes widened, "Marius? What, why?"

"You both seem busy enough. Besides, I've already spoken with Enjolras."

"Pontmercy, you don't have to leave, it's al-"

"No, I insist." He patted both his friends on the back and huffed past Eponine and out the door with a faint, "Farewell," as he shut it.

The waif and the man stood in silence for a few moments before Eponine sniffled and Enjolras' head snapped towards her.

"What happened? Is it Henri!? Is he alright?"

"Yes, yes." She shook her head, "Henri's with Azelma – I was out today."

"…Where?"

She huffed, "Everywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"I was looking for a job."

"A job?" He smirked, "How did that go?"

Eponine sniffled again and burst into tears suddenly, catching the man off guard as he debated whether or not he should comfort her.

"They've called me illiterate and aggressive! They've kicked me out of several factories and told me not to return Enjolras! I don't know what to do!"

He reached out to her, "Why do you need a job Eponine, I'll take care of you –"

"No!" She batted away his hand and straightened out her dress, "I'm tired of being taken care of. I want to support my own family."

He clicked his tongue and watched as the waif miserably attempted to make it look as if she had not been crying.

"Help me."

"What?"

"I _need_ you."

He suddenly felt another twinge of empathy and sympathy all at once that made his heart burn from the love he was beginning to acknowledge all over again for Eponine.

"What do you want me to do? I don't own a factory –"

"_Help me_." She begged, "I don't care how – just _help me_." She shook her head, "You can barely afford to eat Enjolras. I'm tired of you putting everything you have into supporting this family. I'm a part of it too, you have to let me help you."

Something in his miserable visage changed suddenly, "You care that much about my happiness?"

She blinked as is she hadn't understood what he had said, "Of course."

He nodded with a faint smirk and turned away from the girl, hands pressed together in thought.

"You don't care where this job is?"

She shook her head, "Not really. As long as it's not in the range of what my father would have me do."

He flinched, "No. Oh heavens no, _Mademoiselle_."

"Good. Then I don't mind at all."

"Good."

They met eyes and Eponine quickly looked away, "Well, I best get back to Henri. Thank you again Enjolras, I appreciate it."

"Anytime Eponine."

"Well, uh, goodbye."

She threw the door open and stepped out, bidding him farewell with a final nod and disappearing into the apartment next door.

...

Enjolras tapped his fingers impatiently on his pant leg until Christian Joviendre tapped the papers on his desk, and put them in an orderly pile to the right.

"How old is she?"

"20."

"And she's with child?"

"Yes."

"Where is the husband?"

"Deceased."

"When?"

Enjolras sucked in a breath and met the eyes of his employer, trying his best not to show any emotion, "The barricades."

"Hm," Christian squirmed a little and furrowed his eyebrows, "so she should be on the streets. With the rest of the filth."

The man suddenly found himself on his feet, "_Monsieur_–"

"Calm yourself Etienne, we're in a place of business."

The man furrowed his golden brows and took a seat in his chair once again, "She needs a job, _Monsieur._ She's starving and she's my friend. I can't let that happen."

"How sweet." He smiled, "I didn't know you were capable of caring Professor."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

Another smile flashed across Christian's face and he nodded, "She can work here, but as my assistant. She will earn five francs a week. I need someone to organize my files and speak with people I don't have the time for. Can she do that?"

"Absolutely."

"And at any sign of trouble, I will fire you both. I can't afford to be associated with _gamines_ and illegitimate children, understood? We're lucky to even operate a University after the revolution, don't screw that up."

His jaw tensed up, and through clenched teeth he muttered, "Understood, _Monsieur_."

"Good." He stuck out his hand and watched as the man grabbed onto much harder than he should have then shook it once.

Enjolras spat, "She starts tomorrow," before shutting the door behind him.


	3. Arrest

**A/N: **_Sorry for the late update (again)! My computer had a virus and a lot of the files for this story got deleted so, essentially, I had to start from scratch -.- Either way, here it is! I know a lot of the history in this chapter is probably wrong so please correct me if you find anything! Other than that, please don't forget to review :) Enjoy xx_

**Arrest**

She sat in front of him with a curious sort of stillness that made him wonder, ever so slightly, whether she was interested in their dinner or not.  
He couldn't tell whether it was the sadness in her eyes or the distaste on her lips, but whatever it was; he was not looking at the Eponine Thenardier he had grown to know.

"You've barely touched your food."

Eponine's head shot up and a look of confusion glimmered across her gaze, "Oh."

He watched as she looked at her food; picked her fork up to use it, and then set it back down with a _clank_.

"Enjolras," her voice shook, "why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He stopped mid bite and tried to smirk but fell short, "What do you mean?"

"I mean you didn't tell me I was working for _him_."

"That's why I didn't tell you." He shrugged, "You wanted a job, I got you one."

"_But it's with him._" She shook her head, "How have you put up with him? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because it's my business."

A wave of silence fell over both of them and the waif struggled to keep her composure, shaking ever so slightly as the man of marble continued to eat his food with an astounding apathy. Enjolras had in fact called her over for dinner as soon as he had returned from work, cooking the food himself and bringing out Henri's cradle so that their son could be with both of them for the night.

However, no matter how casually the man tried to play the evening, a sinking feeling had fallen into the pit of Eponine's stomach and she couldn't shake the fact that something, no matter how small, was about to go wrong. And she was absolutely right.

"He's notorious for being _a brute_. Don't you _think_!?" She slammed her fists on the table suddenly and Enjolras' eyes widened slightly.

"I expected this sort of behaviour but I can assure yo-"

"No!" She moved towards him and pointed a finger, "Did you think that just because I've worked with criminals before I could handle him? That somehow I would grow accustomed to someone who could abuse me and get away with it?"

"You can handle yourself better than I can, _Mademoiselle_. If I didn't think so I wouldn't have gone to him for help."

She raised her hand to slap him but he caught her hand within his own, losing his emotions in a sad mixture of love and frustration all at once.

"He won't hurt you, you're the only female member on staff and the one thing he prides himself on is his reputation in Paris. If word gets out that somethings happened to you…"

"He'll be ruined." She murmured what the man had wanted to say and pulled her hand away from his, not realizing how long they had been like that, "Fine then."

"And another thing," he added, "when you're at the University, you mustn't act like you know me personally. Although you will be knownas _Mademoiselle_ Thenardier, I will be _Monsieur_ Montville to you and everyone else on staff."

"What?"

"That's how I've kept the job for so long, because they can't trace my name back to the men that went missing in the barricades." His voice cracked and he turned away from the waif, refusing to show any emotion.

"Then what about me? I was there, I went missing."

"Yes, but your family history and your _disguise_ prevented anyone from discovering your true identity. So long as you don't expose the rest of us, which I have full faith you won't, then we'll be fine."

She pondered over it briefly, and then nodded, "Alright. I promise."

He continued to stay silent, listening to every question and thought that came out of her mouth afterwards and scolded himself every time he felt his heart leap or his blood run quicker through his veins. Every unquestionable emotion that struck him made him even more startled than the previous and he soon found himself on the brink of breaking down in front of the woman he was trying so hard to fall out of love with.

This went on till she went home and he once again found his refuge in sleep.

...

The University had stone walls and cobblestone pathways leading into its campus, trees outlining the paths and students dotting every other visible spot. To have such a prosperous, high-class standing in Paris in the current state it was in was rare and unsettling for most of the students, professors and visitors.

Outside the very walls they studied were the sick, malnourished, poor, and close to dead. They had been miraculously lucky to even study and teach in such a safe haven, ignorant to the struggles of its country, and even though some took it for granted, it stood a fact rooted in everybody's daily lives that they were amongst the luckiest in France.

Eponine tried to keep this in mind as she muttered _bourgeois filth_ repeatedly under her breath till she was two minutes away from meeting Monsieur Christian Joviendre.

Enjolras stood by her side, trying to keep on looking apathetic, for the sake of keeping his secret and her own intact.

"Do you think he'll introduce himself? Or will I have to introduce myself?"

Enjolras blinked a few times to comprehend her question, then opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a voice he had grown to loathe.

"Surely he'd introduce himself." The man stuck out a hand and shook the waif's frivolously, "I'm _Monsieur_ Joviendre, surely you've heard of me?"  
She struggled to get her words out, caught off guard by his abrupt introduction and also the fact that the man who was a topic of conversation in all of Paris, who had inherited a prestigious University, was _so _young. Twenty-four at most.

"Yes." She blurted out, "I'm _Mademoiselle_ Thenardier."

"Of the Thenardier's? Yes I've heard of you all."

A moment of silence fell between the three as Eponine and Enjolras tried to comprehend what he had just said.

He clenched his fist, "What?"

"Oh, surely you have too _Monsieur_ Montville. They were famous for their cons." He turned to the girl, "You're quite admirable then. Liberally speaking."

"Glad you think so," Eponine bit her tongue, "and I'm glad you know, to be honest. It would be a shame to work with a man who's ignorant to his own workers histories. Liberally speaking."

Both _Monsieur_ Joviendre's and Enjolras' jaws dropped.

Before Enjolras could apologize on the waif's behalf, Joveindre smiled.

"You didn't tell me she had an attitude."

Enjolras furrowed his golden eyebrows.

"I like it." He smiled, "You'll fit in quite nicely with me."

He moved closer to Eponine, meeting her eyes. The man of marble stood to the side, fighting the urge to jump between them and take the waif back home to their Henri. To safety.

"I hope so. Otherwise _it would be a shame_." Eponine clenched her teeth and the man threw his arm around her, "She's quite the catch. Ah, what a year this will be, don't you think _Monsieur_?"

He nodded once and unclenched his fist, not realizing how long he'd been squeezing it shut.

"Say, how did you two meet again?"

Eponine's eyes widened and Joviendre took notice, "What? Did I spark a memory?"

"No!"

He grinned, shifting his gaze to Enjolras and sighing, "Adorable, isn't she?"

"Hey!" Enjolras stepped forward, then stopped. He'd only raise suspicion.

"_Monsieur_, don't you have a class to teach?"

He froze suddenly, checking his pocket watch, and then sharing an apologetic glance with Eponine.

"I guess I'll be off then."

"Good." He turned towards the waif, "Now to you my dear, shall we?"

He held the door open and Eponine finally broke her gaze with Enjolras, stepping through the entrance.

...

In 3 hours she had sorted every application that had come into the university since the beginning of the semester, putting aside only 5 out of 300 for consideration since they matched the criteria Joviendre had carefully laid out for her. From her understanding, if you did not come from a high standing family or had an astounding level of intelligence - you were not cut out for the University.

"What's bothering you love? Did you hate to see _Monsieur_ Montville leave your side? I would get him for you but rules are rules..."

She nearly stuttered over her words, unable to keep her frustration in, "You only accepted 5 people!"

"Considered," he corrected, "there _is_ a difference, believe it or not."

Eponine shut her mouth and refrained from arguing with him anymore, growing tired of his sarcasm. She had heard about his ruthlessness and impatience since she had married Enjolras, all of Les Amis having had an encounter with him at one time or another. She had heard about his failed marriages, his ability to fire hundreds of workers at a time, and the rarity in having any chance of working for him. It shocked her that any of the boys she was friends with had even attended the University, and she was even more shocked that the man she once loved, the father of her own child, had hidden the fact that he was working directly under him for so long.

What caught her off guard presently though was Joviendre's shameless flirting and tedious sarcastic remarks. There was nothing ruthless or impatient about his behaviour, just annoying. Not to mention how he knew of her family history despite Enjolras' hunch...

"You seem oddly quite."

"Do you need me to entertain you now?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Although I would _love_ to take you up on your offer, I cannot. I've got things of my own to do."

"Your own?" She clamped her mouth shut again. Even though she had been doing all his work all day, it still wasn't her place to dive into his personal life.

Something glimmered across his eyes and he stopped himself from turning to face the girl, "I'll probably regret telling you but," he shut the door to his office that hung open slightly, "my father passed two days from today, last year. I've got his memorial planned; I've just got to accommodate all the guests and it's proving more difficult than I anticipated…"

Eponine grimaced; she didn't know someone as spoiled as him could have been stressed. But why would there be any accommodation of guests?

"Do you need any help?" Was all she managed to say.

If it had been quieter in the halls outside their office, the waif could have been able to make out the slight gasp that escaped the man's lips.

"Uh," he smirked, "no. You can, however, attend my father's memorial service."

"Me?"

"Yes." He grinned, "Seeing as he was a man of status and that if he were still here he would own most of the buildings in Paris, there are many people who wish to pay their respects to him. That's why I'm holding a small party at the University for those of them in Paris, and outside. To reimburse them for their troubles and to conduct the memorial with ease. I want you to be there, and you may bring _Monsieur_ Montville if you wish."

She blinked, still confused, "But why me?"

"Because you know what it feels like."

She was still confused.

"Death, I mean. It must have been difficult losing your late husband."

Before she could say another word a loud _boom_ sounded in the hallway and a rush of screams and worried whispers engulfed the building.  
Joviendre seemed petrified, frozen in place. Eponine grabbed his arm and yanked him outside with her; no one would dare hurt her if he were beside her.

"HEY! STOP!"

Her mouth turned dry suddenly and now she was the one with trouble moving. She watched as the flood of national guardsmen held a wriggling Enjolras in place.

"Let him go!" She cried, rushing to him only to be pulled back by Joviendre. She shot him a sharp gaze and he shook his head, holding her as she wriggled too.

"By decree of the law, you, _Monsieur_ Etienne Enjolras are under arrest of the mass murder of over six hundred people at the June Rebellion of 1832. You will spend life in prison for fraud and murder if proven guilty. Please, follow this way."

"You can't!" Eponine screamed, finally breaking out of the man's grip and running to Enjolras.

He reached out his hand and she reached out for him. A guardsman grabbed it and slapped her, knocking her to the ground.

"Don't touch her!" He fought, kicking and kicking until he felt every last bit of energy he had left dissipate into hopelessness, "I have a child! PLEASE!"

Joviendre's gasp was quite audible now and he exchanged a bitter look with the waif, piecing together what he had just heard.

"Take him away." The guardsman finally declared, and Eponine watched in horror as the man she used to love was whisked out of his workplace, out of safety and security, and to prison. To his death.

The pool of students that had gathered all shared looks of confusion and woe and Joviendre ordered them back to their classes and out of the streets.

Eponine sank to the floor, weary, her vision fading to black.

The last thing she saw before she collapsed was a hand reaching out for hers.


	4. Une Ombre

**A/N:** _Well... I don't know if sorry will cut it for not updating but I really am sorry for leaving you all for so long :( While I was putting off writing due to horrible writer's block I did, however, go to Europe for the summer, and I had the chance to stay in Paris for a week! Staying in the city this fanfiction takes place in really helped me realize what it must have been like realistically all those years ago - and it also really helped seeing Place de Victor Hugo too :D Any who, if all goes well I will honestly try to update as much as possible and I hope you all enjoy the rest of the story. Oh and this chapter may have a bit of gore (for really squeamish people) and if I get any history/spelling wrong please do let me know. Also **please, please, please** review - it really helps hearing your thoughts and it makes me want to write more so please don't hesitate! Thanks a bunch xx_

**Une Ombre  
(A Shadow)**

_Enjolras stood at the post, solemnly looking over the crowd that had gathered over the last few minutes. He hung his head, full of shame and regret, holding onto the soon to be memory of his son and the woman he loved. Eponine watched this with wide eyes, horrified at what was about to take place. The silhouette of the noose behind the orange-grey skies sent her into a frenzy of worry. His crimes were then read out loud, slowly, each sent flying at her, etching itself into her brain._

_Murder._

_Betrayal._

_Mass destruction._

_Then, with a bitter cry and the swift snap of his neck, he was hung, in front of all of Paris._

...

She woke with a jolt, sweat plastered to her forehead. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably as the images from her dream replayed over and over again in her head. This was the fate the national guardsmen were about to give Enjolras, and the most she could do was pathetically dream about it…

"Finally awake?"

She squirmed as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings.

Joviendre was seated at his desk, a glass of water to his right, his ink and quill to his left, and long sheet of ivory paper in the centre, stretched out and held in front of him. Squinting, he seemed to be simultaneously keeping an eye on the waif and gazing over the information on the paper.

Suddenly the revelation of the news hit her again and she found herself in fits of severed breath, unable to ask for help as images of Enjolras' arrest and of the potential end of the surviving members of the barricades clouded her vision. From what she had gathered, someone had found out Enjolras' true identity and captured him. What astounded her, however, was that a finger was never laid on her. Despite her severe involvement with the barricades and the man who had supposedly started it all. Besides, nearly two years had passed – why was the uprising starting now? And why the day she had just started work?

Overhwlemed with thoughts she sat upright and convulsed under the weight of the pressure resting on her shoulders, the frivolous thoughts swirling in and around her head. Joviendre rushed by her side, forcing his water down her throat and watching intently as colour found its way back into her cheeks and strength replenished her body. However, fear and anxiety still lingered in her eyes and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Where did they take him!?" She begged.

Before he could respond she was on her feet, heading towards the door, "We have to help him!"

The man's eyes widened and he grasped her arm; pulling her away from the exit he pushed her back down to her couch, "Do you think if you march out there right now anyone will help you? _Think_."

She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to protest but stopped when he took the roll of paper he was reading earlier off his desk. One by one he read the contents out loud to her, "_Monsieur_ Etienne Enjolras, _Monsieur_ Alexandre Courfeyrac, _Mademoiselle_ Eponine Jondrette Thenardier,_ Monsieur_ Richard Grantaire, _Monsieur_ Laurent Joly, _Madame_ Jules Joly, _Mademoiselle_ Musichetta Delistta – would you like me to carry on, it's quite a long list…"he yawned and  
Eponine sputtered, rubbing her eyes as if to force herself awake from a terrible nightmare.

"What the hell is this?"

"The bodies they went delivered alive to the National Guardsmen so they can kill them themselves. Everywhere they strike they spread the word, lucky me I got the latest list."

A cold wind struck the waif and she shivered, mortified by what she had just heard.

"Do you honestly think that if you single handedly try to search your husband down you'll find him alive? Or make it back yourself…?"

"Shut up!" Eponine threw the door open and marched outside, the click on her shoes sounding like loud bells in the now vacant hallway. Remnants of the moon were peeking out from the previously cloudy sky, setting an ominous tone over their meeting.

"Hey!" He called out to no response, "HEY!"

"What!?"

"You'll die you know. I'm telling you now."

"And what? Would you like to help me?"

Slowly he said, "Yes."

The waif froze, mortified by why the man she had so feared was offering his help now. After they had lied to him, after he had known the truth, after he had witnessed what an awful fate was in store for them…

"I don't need your help," she spat, "and I don't _want_ it either! You watched them take him away and you just stood there!"

He still kept his gaze firmly occupied, listening but never acknowledging her words.

"You are _filth_! I should've _never _met you!"

Suddenly he smirked and fear struck Eponine's heart.

"And only on the first day?" He began, "My, my, I knew you were special when I first laid eyes on you but I never expected this."

She was consumed in his words now, watching him move closer completely petrified, "You both _lied _to _me – _and I still offer you my help!"

"Why!?" She began, finding the courage to speak, "I never asked for it you didn't have to off-"

"Because I care!" And then the room filled with the same silence Eponine had grown so accustomed to over the years, the kind that made everything in front of her blur and the sound of her racing heart beat in her ears, the heat rising in her face and chains seemingly wrapping themselves around her tongue, rendering her speech. Everything stopped.

Then, suddenly, she was outside in front of the University, the moon shining down on her and the stars speckling the night sky. A soft, hazing fog floated around her feet and she felt the need to seep into it, to just lay there and forget that she had ever met Enjolras or fell in love with him or met Christian Joviendre.

But then, if she hadn't done any of that she would've never found the inexplicable joy her son had given her from the moment she knew he had him. There wasn't a moment that she didn't have Henri resting in her mind and soul, and after the incidents of today, all she wanted to do was go home and hold him in her arms. To hear his steady heart beat and remind herself that if anything, she had their son to remind her of Enjolras, and that if it took her the rest of her life, she would find his father.

...

Azelma took the spoonful of thickened soup and stuck in her mouth, making sure she tasted every resonating flavour: hazelnut, carrots, pumpkin, thyme, cream, salt… but not enough.

"More cream, more salt."

Courfeyrac huffed, "Seriously? I've put everything we've got in here!"

"Well it needs more!" She shook her head, "You should've bought more when you had the chance…"

He stared at the apathetic girl in awe and his insides warmed. Even though she bothered him more than any force on Earth, he felt a strange sort of comfort in her presence, and he was grateful for it to no end.

"Fine, but we'll have to make do with what we have, besides, it's for Eponine. She'll love it no matter what."

Azelma sighed, furrowing her eyebrows, "You really think so? Today was her first day at work, and she was so worried I just –" she wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her sleeve, "I want my sister to be happy."

"She will be." He pulled her in a left a kiss on her cheek, "Besides, we've been caring for Henri all day, she trusts us."

"_Me._" Azelma snickered, "She'll only trust you if I'm around."

"I'll have you know that she told me about her baby first."

"Only because you were the best thing around at the time."

He smirked, "Have I lost that title?"

She felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach as the man inched closer and closer to her, his breath on her neck.

Suddenly, "'Zelma!" rang through the vacant halls and their embrace shattered.

"What in the devil's…" Courfeyrac let go of her and ran through the house till he had reached the door, pulling it open feverishly to find an exhausted, panting Eponine standing on the other side.

"Where's Henri?"

"You weren't supposed to be here till late-"

"Where's Henri!?" She begged, pushing him aside and searching frantically till she reached her sister, who was standing calmly by the kitchen table holding her nephew in her arms. Handing the sleeping boy to Eponine she watched as her sister kissed her son, then slowly but surely burst into tears.

"Eponine!" Azelma grasped onto her hand, "What's wrong? 'Ponine talk to me!"

After another minute of heart wrenching sobbing, she spoke up, revealing everything that had happened earlier that day. Every last detail was spread out on the table, even the strange things Joviendre had done till the very last moment she had faced him.

"I don't know what to do anymore! They're going to kill us!"

Azelma opened her mouth to speak but realized Courfeyrac's hand was clenched tightly onto hers underneath the table, and tears filled her eyes.  
"They're really going to kill us? I- I don't want to die!"

"You're not going to bloody die! We won't let them kill us – we did nothing wrong!" Each heavy breath the boy took broke Azelma's heart, "But he's really gone? They really took him?"

Eponine nodded and tears filled her eyes.

"Well – we'll find him! I promise!"

"What if we don't? What if it's too late…" The waif convulsed under the weight she was placing on her own heart and began weeping once more.

"Stop, stop it!" Azelma covered her ears, shocked by the sudden liking she had taken to the man, "We'll try our best to find him, I promise."

"Myself as well!" Courfeyrac nodded, "I owe him my life, and I'll do anything to get his back to normal."

After Eponine had regained her normal breathing pattern, and Courfeyrac reassured her that no harm would come their way, the night seemed to drag on for an eternity. Too afraid to go home, she stayed at Courfeyrac's apartment, just as she had grown so used too.

Between thoughts of her son's safety, Enjolras' current whereabouts, and what on Earth Joviendre was up to she found herself asleep in a world of darkness and confusion. Even the shadows that reassured her of the omnipresent light were only illusions, prying on her vulnerability. Slowly but surely she shut her eyes, trying to shut the thoughts out for only moment if it guaranteed her one hour of sleep, so maybe, she could try and forget everything that had happened earlier that day.

Her hands slid into her pockets, frosty from the shivers flying up and down her spine, to find warmth. Then she struck a realization – her pocket watch, which she had kept to organize herself at work, was missing. Where could it have gone? It was one of the oldest things she had kept from her previous endeavours in stealing, and although she felt guilty, she had no intent of leaving something that valuable behind.

Finally forgetting her previous haunting thoughts, if only briefly, she skipped over to where on Earth she could have possibly left it. It was either still at home or with Joviendre at his office. Then again, she had never taken it out… Could have stolen it?

Rot with another horrid thought to consume her till dawn, the waif lay there, staring up at the ceiling and praying that somehow, some way, a light would beam out from the shadow and lead her down any other path than the one she was one. Slowly but surely, she fell asleep.

...

The carriage was just like any other; black iron throughout, two cushioned sets of benches facing one another, and windows to the left and right, just above the doors lying right below them which the passenger could use at any time to get out. Usually a small slot allowing the rider to view their driver lay just atop the back facing bench inside the car. There was one small separating detail between this carriage and the others however; this carriage had its windows barred and the passenger inside had no way out other than with the assistance, and permission, of a guardsman.

Enjolras watched the hills roll by beside him. Mountains stretched out for miles ahead of him under a setting sky, oranges and pinks soon being replaced by dark blues and navies. If it were under any other circumstance he would have been honored to have such a beautiful view of a sunset like this – but not today.

Struggling in his handcuffs seemed useless, and, having been shackled to the floor of the cab, there was no other means of escape for him. Normally he would've found a way out by now, but all he could've done was start screaming, and that would've gotten him whipped by the guardsmen beside the driver.

He sighed, the image of Eponine horror stricken at the University branded in his mind. What was she doing now? Was she worried? How was Henri? Would he ever see them again?

Aggravated he grunted and shook the shackled on the floor beneath him, feeling a tear in his pant leg.

"Easy back there, scum!" The guardsmen warned, shooting the man a snickering gaze through the slot separating them.

He rolled his eyes and turned away from the guard, staring back out the windows. As the carriage suddenly rolled over a large bump, he heard a small clink and averted his eyes below him. Rolling freely on the floor was a bolt previously helping hold the floor of the carriage down. Without hesitation, and idea struck him.

If he could somehow loosen the floor board he would be dragged down with it and out of the carriage. But he had to play his cards correctly or he would die sooner than the fate he was given.

With a quick solemn gaze back towards the mountains, he began to painfully rip the bolts holding the floorboard around his feet out with his bare hands. Each bolt stung as it dug deeper and deeper into the flesh surrounding his fingers and the bone underneath, and with each gruesome bolt Enjolras fought back blood curdling screams of agony. One by one the bolts fell out, the floor underneath him giving way to the dirt path underneath. Another large bump and the clinks were now clear as day.

Then he stopped, if he could hear them clearly then so could -

"What're you doing back there!?" The guardsmen's gaze burned through Enjolras' cover, "Oi! Erik stop the cab, we've got ourselves an escape artist too!"

"No," Enjolras' fingers moved faster, blood over bone, bone over flesh, red tainting his vision. A hole deep enough to fit one leg through opened underneath him and he whittled away at the rest faster and faster. Then the carriage came to a sickening halt.

"Get him out!"

"NO!" Enjolras kicked the floorboards beneath him, jumping to knock the rest of them loose. The guardsmen ripped his door open and pulled half his body out, the leg still shackling to the floor resting halfway in the carriage. A handful of bolts lay in the man's mangled hand.

"You'll be walking the rest of the way, and try anything funny and I'll shoot your limbs off." The driver, Erik, laughed, and the guardsmen in front of him snickered, bending down to undue the rest of his shackled legs.

A horrible fate flashed before Enjolras' eyes, and before he knew it he could see himself getting hung in front of all of Paris – just because he loved his stupid Patria so much. He was willing to die for her – but not for Eponine. He was a different man now, he was never going to let himself die knowing he had a child at home.

With more strength than he thought he could ever muster, he through the dozen bolts in the direction of the horse up front, sending it into a whinny of adrenaline and yanking the carriage forward.

"What the-" before the guardsmen could say anything, he heard a sickening crunch as the cab projected forward and Enjolras was ripped out from the interior, his shackled leg turning in the opposite direction and his body being tossed off the mountain path. The rest of the carriage swerved and swivelled until it had knocked off and hit both guardsmen and detached from the horses that ran freely down the rest of the path.

Feeling the burning in his leg, the fire in his fingers, and the aching in his heart Enjolras fell and fell, losing consciousness only to wake up to the endless tumble he was taking downhill over and over again.

Was this how he would die? Sacrificing everything to die on the very mountains he had so admired just minutes ago?

Feeling his momentum slow and his will power die away, Enjolras finally came to a halt in the meadow just below the mountain. His leg was crushed and blood poured out into a sea around him. With the image of his beloved still hovering above him, and the mementos of the little time he spent with his son resting in his heart, he lay to rest, accepting his final moments. Besides, a criminal like him deserved something like this – he had killed so many, he had hurt too many, and it was finally time to serve justice.

With a final breath he closed his eyes and waited for the dark hand of death.

Then, as if an angel had descended, he heard a voice in the distance suddenly called out, "Momma, m'aider! Regarde, c'est un garcon! Depeche-toi!"


	5. Something New

**Something New**

Pain was a funny thing. One moment it could remind you that you were irrevocably alive and the next it could make you wish you weren't.

In that moment, with blood pounding in his ears and pouring out his wounds, pain throbbing in his legs and his head, and his fingers feeling as though they were being scorched in flames, Enjolras had begun to pray for death to come and take him. How easy it would be to bid this world that he'd done so much wrong to goodbye, how much better the world would be if he weren't in it.

But then again, he had a child to take care of, and what would happen to dear Eponine if he were gone?

Would she care?

Would she miss him?

Was she even worried?

He shook the thoughts loose as the fire taking a hold of his body spread, beginning to burn him to ashes.

"Oh God please be alive." The same voice he had heard a few moments ago returned suddenly, as if it were coming from the heavens, "_Monsieur_ please!"

He felt the sensation of something upon his lips, giving him air, the fingers upon his chest, pressing down again and again. Had he stopped breathing?

"Come on!" She pleaded, followed by the lips and the fingers once again.

He felt himself losing control over his body more and more, and soon he felt as though he were just a conscience lying in space, alone. Lips, air, fingers, pressure, repeat. The cycle went on and on and he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of darkness. There was no light left.

"MONSIEUR!" She screamed, and he was greeted wholly by something cold and – AGH.

He shot him, pain engulfing him but the world around him as clear as day.

His vision blurred in and out until he could make out faces and things in the distance. The first was the girl sitting next to him, out of breath and sweating, her raven curls spread around her face as she panted.

Enjolras coughed, exhausted and feverish with worry. What had happened? He couldn't believe the journey he had endured in only 2 days. What had happened to his friends? And Eponine. The waif flashed across his mind over and over again and he was reminded of his pain once more.

"_Monsieur_! Are you alright? I'll go get some more gauze!" She quickly left to the kitchen and left the man pondering over what she had meant by more?

He moved his hands in front of his face to see the extent of the damage and was shocked by what he found. Layer after layer of gauze was wrapped around his hands, dried blood staining it but the pain diminishing slowly.

The girl returned, hair still matted to her forehead, her eyes a mystery to the man. She dunked his hands suddenly in buckets of ice water and patted a cool towel dipped in the same liquid on his forehead.

A moment of silence rang heavily between them and was broken when Enjolras let out a sigh, heavy with grief.

"Am I hurting you?"

He tried to find his voice, to respond to her, but he coughed and sat still with his mouth dry.

"Here." She gave him a glass of water to sip, and as it poured down his throat he felt renewed again. His eyes suddenly shot to his legs and he realized they too were gauzed, and placed gingerly in make-shift splints.

"Oh those," she laughed, "I had to improvise. You'll have to wait till I get real ones from the market."

"You're too kind." The man let out, surprised by his own voice. She seemed to be as well.

"I suppose you really are feeling better." She smiled, and lifted his bangs up to place the towel more directly on his forehead. She looked away to dab the towel in the water and he closed his eyes. The ice had numbed his fingers and finally, he felt as though the fire was burning out.

"By the way my name is -" they locked eyes and suddenly an immense silence fell between them. No… it couldn't be her of all people. It had been so long he had nearly forgotten her completely…

"Enjolras…" she bit her lip nervously and backed away from him, dropping the soaking towel on his shirt and falling on her bottom.

"Musichetta…?"

...

Eponine stood bitter faced in front of the university. A permanent, haunting wind seemed to swirl around her continuously, mixing in with her sadness and anxiety.

She hadn't slept much for the week, and when she did, her dreams were nightmares and blackness would spread throughout her body and threaten to consume her. She had tried to contact every one she knew that could help her free Enjolras - but who could she call? They were all being hunted down, she could barely go to the market without fearing for her life and every one around her. What could she do?

Every time she looked upon Henri's face she would see the man that was ripped away from their life together heartlessly just a bit over a week ago. She had avoided Joviendre at all costs for that time, pondering what relation he had to the incident and what he had done with her pocket watch. Why had he wanted to help her so badly? She shivered as the wind stopped, overwhelmed by the sudden warmth she felt envelope her.

"Well, well, if it isn't _Madame_ Enjolras."

It was him. She spun to face the man she had learnt to despise in a few days and held her tongue back as he continued to smirk at her, just as he had from the moment they met.

"I didn't expect you to return, but then again, I had this," he pulled out the glimmering pocket watch from his vest and smiled, watching Eponine's jaw dropped as the golden trinket shimmered in front of her, "so I figured you'd come back."

She reached out to snatch it but he raised it beyond her grip.

"I needed you to come back."

"_Merdre_, why the hell would you want me to return? Now, give it back!"

"Did I hear a please?"

"GIVE IT BACK!"

He dangled it higher and watched as the girl made miserable attempts to jump and catch it. Flustered and angry she stood in front of him with her arms crossed.  
He smirked and she felt anger boil inside of her, steam coming out of her ears.

"You and your lover lied to me, you missed my party, and left all your work in _my_ office. So, essentially, I can't pay you, or respect you really, till you return to your post, _Madame_."

She clenched her teeth, "It's _Mademoiselle, Monsieur_, and thank you but I refuse."

"Why would you refuse? Do you have other means of supporting your lovely child without that _petit ami_ of yours to help you?"

Eponine felt her mouth go dry.

"Wow," he tossed the watch in her direction and watched her make a miserable attempt at catching it, "you're actually considering it, aren't you?"

"No!" Eponine bit her tongue, "You're vile."

"Perhaps," he grinned a sinister grin, "but I'm the only hope you have now that he's gone."

The waif found herself completely lost. Why was she relying on him? Was it because she felt as though she had to stay close to him until Enjolras returned so that he would still have a job? Was it because she was too embarrassed to ask Joly or Courfeyrac for money? Either way, the job paid well and she would do anything to keep Henri healthy. He was the only thing she had left to remember him by.

"I'll stay – but not for you. For my son and for Enjolras."

"You really did love him." He sighed, "How romantic. It's a shame he'll be dead soon if he isn't already."

She suddenly felt a surge of complete anger and the next thing she knew she had rammed her fist into his teeth.

"Say it again, and you'll be dead!"

Joviendre shivered on the floor, the taste of blood in his mouth. The click of her boots rang in his ears as she made her way into his University, determined and mad. Had she really just done that? He chuckled, amused. Maybe there really was a reason Enjolras loved her so much...

...

**Sorry for the shortness of the chapter! But whoa, the author's note at the bottom!? What!? Well, I figured it'd be a bit better this way so here we go.**

**Yes, I know it's been a very long while again but I feel so unmotivated to finish this fic (even though I really want to!)**

**Thank you so, so much for the 21 of you following and the 20 reviews so far, that's awesome considering I only had 4 chapters up since April. But I've decided that I really need reviews to keep going, they're like a sort of 'payment' haha. And as a way of keeping myself from not updating for so long, I will update as soon as I get 10 reviews! I know, it's sort of selfish, but I gotta know you're all still interested so I can feed that interest :)**

**Thanks a bunch! xx**


	6. Invité

**Invité  
(Guest)**

Musichetta was a superb girl, very literary, dressed well and had the eyes of a fortune teller. And it was that hypnotizing way she gazed upon them and her mess of curly raven hair and milky skin that had left a lasting impression on Joly and Bossuet before the barricades. Joly had even claimed he was wild over her and would forever be in love.

But Bossuet's death arrived quickly, mercilessly, and after meeting Julie, Joly had forgotten about the girl he used to fawn over and had fallen head first in love with his sister's best friend. His story had blossomed from there and fallen suddenly when news of their capture arose.

Musichetta on the other hand had no clue that she was wanted by the country and had taken her things and run off to Lyon to live with her mother after realizing she had been replaced. Months and months of bliss and peace had passed without a single worry – and then the golden haired captain of the barricades had rolled suddenly into her life. She wiped a tear from her eye and met the azure eyes of the man once again.

"Leave."

Enjolras, however stone cold he could be, felt a pang of sympathy for the girl and shook his head.

"Musichetta," he took a stern breath, "we're all in danger."

She raised an eyebrow, "I don't trust you. Not yet."

"You're going to have to learn to," he gripped his side with his torn fingers, eyes wide with pain but persistent on continuing, "I don't know what heavenly power has made our paths cross once again, but I am telling you right now, all our lives are at stake."

She ran to the cupboard swiftly, taking a cotton cloth from the bottom shelf and dabbing it hastily in the bucket she had filled promptly with ice water.

Enjolras felt the burning numb in his hands as she wrapped it around them, soaking the gauze and chilling him to the bone.

"Is he in danger?" The question came out like a breath, and the man only caught it because he had been listening so intently.

"Yes."

"And she?" Even referencing Julie made her breath come out in staggered waves of jealousy, he could smell it on her. She was green with envy in every sense of the word.

"Mademoiselle now is not the ti-"

"_Is she_?" She clenched her teeth.

"Yes. We all are, I swear to you."

Their eyes met once more and she felt a shiver jolt up her spine, causing her to sit upright, wrought with confusion.

"Am I harbouring a fugitive, Monsieur?"

"Well, as we are all _fugitives, _as you have so gently put, then not at all." He grimaced in pain and turned away from her, catching the dancing rays of the sun as it began to set behind the rolling hills he had feared he would lose his life on earlier. "And to be quite frank, I'm done arguing about the matter with you. I have more important things to waste whatever time I have left thinking about…"

Her omniscient eyes seemed to fade and light up all at once, "Do you mean Eponine?"

The man held his tongue, unwilling to say something he would completely regret only moments later.

"I've thought about her sometimes, you know." Enjolras heard her pick the bucket she had used earlier up off the floor and settle it closer to where he lay with a _splash_. Her feet scuttled across the wooden floors until she was seated at his feet, looking at the shadows cast across his solemn face with a peaceful expression. "I've thought of you both, especially about whether or not you married and about your child. I was quite envious."

Enjolras chuckled under his breath and she caught note.

"Excuse me? I was just being honest! To think, I've put all my thoughts into someone so rude…"

He broke out into a hearty laugh then, gripping his sides in pain and melancholy all at once.

"What's so funny!?"

"You are."

She seemed taken aback and relieved altogether.

"You seem to be taken quite thoroughly with jealousy – I didn't expect that from a girl like you."

"And what _did_ you expect?"

He grinned, "I don't know."

Her gaze broke from his face and to the view to which he seemed so drawn to.

She took a deep breath, "You've changed, and I cannot tell whether it's for the better or for the worse, but you've changed an awful lot Monsieur Enjolras." She shifted her gaze back to his face, the shadows now engulfing him to a point where only his golden hair shone in the darkness. "You're married to her, aren't you?"

He smiled, "Not in the slightest."

"What!? What about your child?"

He ignored the question, "I don't even know what she's doing right now…"

"Enjolras…?"

"Hm?" His head snapped up, another wave of pain hitting him as if they were the tides of the ocean.

"Do you – um, would like to talk?"

The questions seemed to take forever for the man to process, "What?"

"I've decided to trust you, alright?"

"Alright."

Silence rang heavily between them.

"D-Don't you want to know why!?"

He grinned again, "You're a funny girl, I'll give you that much."

She furrowed her eyebrows, "You don't deserve to know…"

"Very well."

"Well, I can't sit in silence. My mother's asleep and you're too consumed by your thoughts to venture out of them for a few minutes."

"Have you ever considered that I might be in great pain?"

"Emotional or physical?"

He felt himself wishing he hadn't said a thing, just as he had tried to prevent earlier.

"Oh, so it is emotional." She gave off the impression of wanting to squeal but the sombre atmosphere prevented her.

"Very well." Enjolras let out a heave and somehow managed to lift himself off of his back and into a seating position, "Now that I'm here I won't be able to force myself back down for quite some time – what do you wish to speak about?"

Her eyes lit up once more, "Everything. Tell me about everything that's happened since I left."

...

Joviendre raised his hand, gently rubbing the spot where he'd been previously punched by the waif. It had nearly healed completely, the scab that had formed from the impact between his open jaw and muscle disappearing day by day.

"You know, blood tastes just as rust smells; it's quite a sensation really. Though I doubt you haven't already experienced it _Mademoiselle Violence_."

Eponine narrowed her eyes, carrying on with her work, "And I shall continue to ignore you _Monsieur Suspicion_."

"Touché," he laughed, "you really are a quick learner Eponine. You can add _smart mouth_ to your resume in no time."

"I only learn from the best." She felt her insides warm as she was dubbed victorious in the implied duel between them.

"Hm, well that's no fun. I've got nothing to say anymore."

She felt a sense of relief wash over her. She had been working like this, from nine in the morning till five in the evening, for a week now. Henri would either be left in the care of Azelma or Julie, sometimes accompanied by Joly, Grantaire, or Courfeyrac. Every day with Joviendre seemed to turn into a type of personal attack all stemming from his unresolved anger about the lies he was fed about whatever lay between the waif and Enjolras. The only positivity that seemed to be radiating out of her life was having those five people there to support her through thick and thin.

Though it had seemed impossible since the arrest of the man she had once loved unconditionally, a sliver of happiness had slid itself back into her miserable heart. However, every night after work, plans about escape from the country and the rescue of Enjolras circulated their home. Every week they would rest at a different location, all together, for fear that one of them would be found and destroyed without warning. Every day for Eponine had turned into a fight for her life, for her son's life, and a search for Enjolras.

Enjolras.

Enjolras.

Enjolr-

"Are you going to stare into space any longer? You're burning a hole through my wall."

"As long as it provides me with a way to escape."

"You clever thing, you're making me like you more and more every day."

She shut her eyes, took a deep breath in, and continued piling the paperwork laid neatly in front of her with bitterness.

"Have I made you upset? Why don't you go and call to your beloved, he'll make it bett-"

Her hands slammed on the table beneath them.

"SHUT UP!"

Her scream echoed through the room, out the door, and into the hallways. Suddenly she could see piles of students pressing their ears against the door, hoping to get a scoop of what horrors had suddenly unfolded in the infamous Headmaster's office.

She marched briskly to the main door, yanking it open and screaming, "Off with you! The whole lot of you get OUT!"

With a murmur of pure panic, students dispersed in groups left and right, disappearing slowly but surely out of her sight. She shut the door behind her and sank against it, her head pounding like a drum.

"My, my, violent and psychotic! Aren't you worried I'll fire you?"

"No!" She pulled at her hair with both her fists, "No I'm not! You have some kind of sick fascination with me!"

"I told you – I couldn't respect you till you returned to the post you so abruptly left."

"You've also told me that you care. Why? Why do you care so much that you can't let me leave?"

She seemed to have struck a nerve suddenly. Joviendre's face turned a bright red, his eyes breaking contact with hers as they dropped to the floor.

The air between them stood still, just as time seemed to for the brief moments where Monsieur Christian Joviendre seemed to gather his train of thought. She had never seen him quite like this. Then again, at this point, she didn't really know what to expect from him at all.

"_You_ are _my_ employee," his words cut through the silence with brute force, "and as such, I would refrain from speaking to me so casually. It's disgusting."

Eponine felt her heart stop, unnerved and bitter. Why was he avoiding the topic? She had been allowed to speak to him like that the whole time she'd been there, so why was he mentioning all this now?

She clenched her fists at her sides and spoke up, "I apologize."

It was him who seemed to relish in the implied victory now, "I knew I shouldn't have let filth like you in here from the moment I met you. I advise that you learn your place, _Mademoiselle_."

She fought the urge to slap him once more. She needed the money, she needed to stay close to this man in order to find out more about Enjolras, and beyond anything she needed to work under this man in order to keep her identity hidden.

"I apologize, _Monsieur_."

...

After Joviendre had dismissed with an incredible sense of guilt and revulsion, Eponine began her trek home from the University, five blocks east. The sun had fully set now, and the night life of Paris boomed as if it had never been cut down by the revolution.

She smirked, remembering the days when she would take the opportunity to steal from a man consumed by his own drunkenness on nights like these. She remembered days when there were no nights, and any time she had was spent with crooks and thieves like Montparnasse.

She shuddered.

Now she was a working woman. If she had been told she'd be getting paid five francs a week at the University of Paris merely two years ago she would've died laughing. It held true though, many things she could've never imagined did, and what shocked her was how quickly and without warning they had happened...

"Eponine!" A voice called out in the dark, a mere echo amidst the chatter and music playing on _Rue de la Contarpézi_.

"Eponine over here!" The voice neared her and she felt her muscles tense.

Was it a guardsman, here to take her away as they did Enjolras? Was it Montparnasse, somehow making his way back into her life?

"Eponine, for God's sake –" the host grabbed her by the waist, turning her to face him as the cabriolet he seemed to occupy came to a halt a few lengths behind him.

"Marius…" She felt her jaw loosen, if he had not called out to her she wouldn't have been able to recognize him.

"Eponine… you, look splendid."

"As do you," she chuckled, "I'll be honest though, I barely recognized you."

"Is it the beard? Should I have shaved it?"

"No!" She reached out her hand and poked it, "I think it suits you. Makes you look like a man…"

His eyes seemed to fall, "Yes."

"Uh," Eponine searched frantically for a change of subject, "h-how's Juliette? And Cosette?"

"Fine, fine. We're searching for a place to stay, now that the news of," he leaned in to whisper into her ear, "our capture has arisen."

"Yes." She whispered back, suddenly latching onto the grim topic once more.

He stepped back and gestured towards his cab, "Would you allow me to give you a ride back home?"

"Really?"

"Anything for you 'Ponine."

She felt her heartstrings give way.

"Thank you!" She ran briskly to the carriage, her tired feet looking forward to the rest they'd soon be getting, "Though I must warn you, we're all staying at Joly's practice this week."

"All?" He levered himself inside across from her and shut the door, tapping the roof a few times before the carriage started to roll down the cobblestone street.

"Well," she looked to her left and right and leaned in towards him, "after Enjolras' capture things have been difficult. So we've all decided to live together, just so we know if anything suddenly happens and so we can help one another."

"Oh, that's lovely…It's been difficult for Cosette and I to do the same. You see we have some..." He stopped himself, as though he had said too much.

"Why don't you all join us!?" Eponine sat upright once again, suddenly regretting what she had just said.

No power on Earth could've made her want to live with Cosette, the man she had spent years loving, and their child – but she had suddenly forced it all on herself.

"Truly!?"

She clenched her fist so tightly she could feel it beginning to numb, "Anything for you… Marius."

"'Ponine you're an angel!"

The cab came to a halt suddenly and he hopped out to help her down, "I would stop by to thank all of you but I'd like to let Cosette know first if that's alright. You'll see me soon."

"...Alright." Eponine grimaced as she began to make her walk to the front entrance, "Thank you, Monsieur."

She did not hear the other words he had uttered in the anticipation of arriving home, her senses clouded by the stress of all that had happen throughout the day. She opened the door and found herself suddenly thrown into more confusion, for on the couch positioned in front of her lay Cosette, fast asleep with red tear marks staining her porcelain cheeks.

"What…"

"Oh! Eponine!" Courfeyrac and Azelma seemed to arrive at the same time, Azelma passing Henri to her sister and Courfeyrac leading her up the stairs and into a seat facing them both.

"You're never going to guess what's happened!"

...

**Well, I don't think sorry is going to cut it this time around, but I'm back! I've heavily underestimated the demands of school and the tug of my own procrastination, but it's not fair to leave something I've started behind, especially to those of you truly enjoying the fic. Hopefully I'll find it in me to keep going and finally finish this :)**

**On another note, to ****Alex-samsprout, CrimsoCrescendo , dmc6792, judybear236 ,shadows-of-1832, RavenCurls, and the guests who've commented after my request in the last chapter thank you, thank you, thank you! Reviews are honestly give me so more inspiration and will power, so please don't forgot to leave one behind! I'll hopefully see you all soon with a new chapter **(≧ω≦)


	7. Move

**Move**

The information reached Eponine in a smooth stream of confusion and shock, all mixed in such a way that it had left her completely speechless. Any thought she had tried to muster up had dissipated in the moment the information had settled in her brain.

In fact, after Azelma and Courfeyrac had finished retelling what they had all found out just moments earlier, it seemed that they too had come to relish in speechlessness.

Recounting the story had made one thing very clear to them, and the longer the facts stayed suspended in midair, lingering between the silence they had all placed there, the clearer it became that things could come to a brutal end very soon.

The facts followed as such:

Just the day before, Marius and Cosette had come to terms with their pending separation. Marius had protested his complete unhappiness in the relationship and Cosette had fallen into a state of shock induced haziness as a result. Feeling as though there was nowhere to turn, Marius left his wife to file the separation while she was physically inhibited, and happened to run into Eponine on the way back. The results of that encounter lead to Marius solving the only remaining issue left for him, a safe shelter in the midst of the manhunt he'd been dragged into. However, the boy did not know that his wife had finally come to her senses and, not knowing where to go, had resorted to the shelter of her old friends to find solace with her daughter.

This series of events, in short, had led to the current situation.

There was, however, something vital most of them had managed to miss. In the act of filing for separation, Marius had given away the most important piece of information to the government – his name. The name that was part of the long list of heads wanted in the country had been given away. And just like a rogue ant that would lead the way to its nest, one rogue name would surely lead to the capture of them all.

"W-we have to tell the others!" Courfeyrac burst suddenly, "If we weren't in enough trouble before, this will definitely be the end of us."

Azelma nodded, grabbing her sister's hand and tugging her out the confines of the room, into the chaos that would soon ensue.

...

The information reached the rest of the group in a smooth stream of confusion and shock. Like Eponine, the words they wanted to say seemed to dry on their way out of their mouths and panic, like oxygen, began to rise and fill the room as the silence grew deeper.

The deafening crash of a brandy bottle hitting the floor was the first noise to appear.

"Bloody idiot's doomed us all!" Grantaire tugged as his locks, his face turning red from a mixture of drunkenness and anger, "Can't he think for once!? FOR ONCE!?"

Tears seemed to fill his eyes as he looked around at the faces of his friends: the freckled newly-weds who had done nothing but help him since he first shook hands with death, the blonde haired porcelain doll who seemed tied to a fate worse than death itself, Azelma and the man she had stumbled head first into love with, blind to the flaws he possessed that Grantaire had grown so accustomed to, and the waif and her child, two parts of a three part whole who had disappeared too suddenly.

They would all die, along with him, and there was nothing they could do about it this time. He thought of his surgeries, his broken limbs, and his rehabilitation – there would be none of that now. Their deaths would be swift, easy, and meaningless. The foot of justice would crush them like ants.

Courfeyrac spoke up, "Grantaire calm down –".

"No!" His feet crushed the shards of glass beneath him and Henri awoke in the midst, his cries suddenly filling the room, "If Enjolras hadn't left, Pontmercy wouldn't be inclined to make such stupid decisions! Eponine –", he turned to the waif who now looked mortified, "he'll be the cause of whatever horrible future awaits your child. Don't tell me you'll let you stupid crush get in the way of Henri's –"

He was silenced by her hand hitting his cheek, the red mark it left leaving him breathless.

"Enjolras is gone and there's nothing we can do right now. We need to find a way to get out of our circumstances before we end up like him."

The words burnt on their way up, but carried a truth it had taken her so long to acknowledge.

Azelma pursed her lips and nodded, unconsciously gripping Courfeyrac's hand tighter within her own.

"And how do you suppose we'll do that?" Grantaire crossed his arms across his chest.

Joly cleared his throat, "We take our plan into action."

Julie's gasp seemed to suddenly echo across the room, her free hand covering her hand.

"Joly, we can't."

"We must, dear." He furrowed his eyebrows and seemed to sink deeper into thought, "If we leave tomorrow, Pontmercy in tow, we may have a slightly larger chance of making it out of this mess alive."

"And that's a chance you're willing to take?" Her angelic voice seemed to suddenly spring out of nothingness.

Cosette sat up, eyes red and swollen from the tears, but determined and fixed upon Joly, "Do not let my husband's decisions alter the path of your choices." He voice wavered on husband and a swelling guilt poured over Eponine.

"No." The waif shook her head, "I agree with Joly. We need to do this is we want to stand a chance."

She earned a grateful nod from the woman she had spent so many years trying to hate.

The room filled with murmurs of agreement.

She failed to mention, however, how much she longed to stay and wait for Enjolras. To see if he would one day return to her alive and in one piece. It seemed like a dream that was slowly fading so far from reality that her fingertips could no longer even graze the surface. So she agreed as the night progressed, as plans were made to find Marius, to flee the country by dawn and leave no trace of their existence behind.

Eponine took Henri from Julie's kind embrace and held him close to her heart. He was so soft and warm, his breaths were tiny and reassuring, and for a brief moment, all the waif needed was him to stay with her forever. It didn't matter that they were moving as long as he was there, for with him were all the memories that were created in Paris; that were created with Enjolras. As long as she and he were together, she would have all she ever needed. With that thought spreading its roots in her mind, she slowly inched her way to starting anew.

There just seemed to be one problem – Joviendre.

...

Musichetta sat cross legged on the floor beside a sleeping Enjolras. His chest moved up and down slowly, the golden tufts of his hair falling in ringlets around his stone like features.

He seemed so at peace it seemed hard to believe that he had been so close to death earlier, that his bones were visible in some parts of his fingers and he had lost the ability to walk for some time.

She smiled at the fruits of her labour; just a few hours earlier he wasn't even able to breathe let alone sleep. He was so unlike what she remembered of him. It seemed to her as though his situation with Eponine, that he had finished explaining to her in remarkably little detail some time ago, had brought some sort of change upon him.

She stared at him intently, tears welling up in her eyes as she remembered what happiness the whole lot of them once shared.

Now everything was fragmented.

She was alone and he was separated from everything he held dear. What would become of them?

Lifting herself up from the ground, she stood silently in the center of his room (which was previously used for storage) and sighed, a sort of sinking feeling filling up her insides.

She wasn't sure what it was, but thinking about the man that lay at her feet started it and thinking of the woman he now shared a child with made her wish to forget everything.

Before she shut the door behind her, she caught a glimpse of the moon from outside her window and took a moment to relish in it's serene beauty. She stifled a chuckle, what silly feelings.

...

**I cannot explain how hard I laughed at myself when I realized how little I've written in a year (it's going to be a WHOLE year very soon and I am ss sorry). To whoever reads and reviews this chapter, you have earned every gold star available on the planet. I won't ever abandon this fic, I feel to committed to ending this love story for you all, and I also hate it when I'm invested in a fic and the author decides to leave it alone for the rest of eternity (which I understand the reasoning behind by WHYYY).**

**So the moral of the story is that I won't do that. Ever. But PLEASE help me continue updating with reviews and whatever else! You guys are awesome as always, and thank you a bijillion times over :3 Enjoy! XX**

**(Also sorry if this chapter is hugely confusing and fast, I'm just really trying to get the plot to where I need it to be in order to flooow more)**


	8. Les Sentiments

**Les Sentiments  
(Feelings)**

The ominous click-clack of Eponine's soles were not unfamiliar to Christian Joviendre's ears. They usually accompanied some sort of sarcastic remark followed by hours upon hours of dread filled silence and a quick and bitter farewell at the end of her shift. This was the routine. So, that morning, when Mademoiselle Thenardier arrived without her usual biting remarks and instead leaned angrily against the door she had shut feverishly behind her, Joviendre knew something was wrong.

"Someone looks more viscous than usual..." He swung his legs around and shifted out of his mahogany chair, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The waif grimaced, "You won't like it very much."

Eponine bit her lip, her eyes shifting across the room so quickly he could have sworn she was looking for the fastest way out of the room. The silence he was accustomed too was building up, a ringing in his ears filling the empty air. _What is she doing?_ He thought. _She's not making her way to her seat, in fact, she's leaning further into the damn door..._

"Out with it then!" Christian demanded, tapping his long fingers impatiently along the hem of his charcoal coloured pants, "I don't have all day!"

"I quit."

He laughed, a long hearty laugh that sent shivers flying up and down Eponine's spine, "No you aren't. Sit back down and get to work."

She flinched, "You're honestly denying me the right to leave?" She shook her head in disbelief, "I quit, Joviendre, and I'm not coming back."

"You're serious?" He was beginning to turn a ghastly shade of red, "You're seriously going to waste every opportunity you have continue caring for you family!? Are you _THAT_ dumb!?"

"If that's what you consider dumb, then I suppose so. Good day, Monsieur."

Before she could open the door to step out, his hand had gripped her wrist, "I won't allow this."

"I can't stay!" The waif squirmed in discomfort, but it was no use. His grip was an iron chain around her tender flesh.

"And why is that!?"

"Because they'll kill me and my son! That's why!"

His grip loosened.

"Monsieur, you know it yourself. It's written on that damned list. I'm just another name to cross off. They," she took a deep breath and met his stoney eyes, "they won't show us any mercy if we don't leave."

Joviendre pursed his lips, "Fine then. Leave."

Eponine's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and relief filling her insides. Then he cleared his throat.

"But first, we need to talk."

...

"Monsieur, please stay seated." Musichetta's voice teetered between positively anxious and mildly annoyed. Enjolras couldn't decipher which one just yet, but he was tired of having to stay plastered to one spot.

Before he could complain any futher, she moved about the room at the speed of lightning, just as she usually would. One second she would be straightening out the rug, then tightening the man's gauze, then fetching water from the kitchen, then making Enjolras drink it, then returning to fixing her mounds of inkly black hair in the mirror situated just above him.

This made him uncomfortable, but alas, what could he do? He was still a mess. Though the bones in his fingers were now hiding behind scarlet bumps and bruises and he could finally move his legs beyond their airtight splints, he was still cemented to the make-shift bed that had been created for him the week he arrived, barely alive. He sighed half heartedly. At least he was alive.

"Musichetta?" he beckoned, tilting his head upwards to where she was leaning. She was just finishing up putting on her make-up, and her omniscient eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever before.

"Yes?" She looked down and her locks of hair fell gracefully overhead, making the man of marble turn away and groan.

"I would very much like to get up."

She pursed her lips, "Really now? You wouldn't prefer to rest? It is good for you -"

"Mademoiselle, I have to use the washroom. Now if you please -"

"Understood." She cleared her throat and turned a bright crimson, "Sorry."

He shook his head, "Think nothing of it. Just help me up."

...

Musichetta was becoming a crutch. She was still in shock at her ability to hold the body weight of a full grown man, and her tolerance in helping him take care of his, um, personal needs.

But she was growing weary of the feelings boiling and bubbling inside her.

She couldn't look the man in the eye, and whenever they were close enough to feel each other's warmth, she felt her heart flutter so quickly within her chest she was worried she'd faint. But every time she thought of him, Eponine and their child would flash behind her eyes and she would feel so overwhelmed in guilt that she would think back to Joly. But he was married now. And so, guilt had become her best friend.

But what was she to do?

No body loved her like they loved the others. Was she not worthy of it?

Enjolras cleared his throat from within the bathroom and Musichetta snapped back to reality.

"C-coming!" She chimed, pushing her feelings back down into her stomach and breathing in deeply. She could never let him know how she felt. It would ruin the foundation of his life and for now, she couldn't afford that.

...

Christian Joviendre rolled his eyes as Eponine grimaced at him.

"I can't do that." She repeated, growing more and more impatient, "There's no way in hell I'd do that."

"Eponine, I won't let you leave unless you do. I can help you, I swear it."

She clicked her tongue and looked to the ground beneath her. What she was being offered was something she could never have imagined. He has asked to know where she was going so that he could insure her safe arrival. But could she trust him? If he wanted to do anything to her, surely he would have done it already. She'd been alone with him for weeks and if he'd had the nerve to allow Enjolras to be taken away, surely he wouldn't stop himself with her. Would he?

But then she thought of Henri. Sweet, beautiful, innocent Henri who she needed to flee out of this country with as soon as possible. She didn't want him to witness the evil in this world that she was so familiar with. But with how high the stakes were, could he guarantee that she would ever see the horizon of a new city with her son?

"Do I have your word?" She asked, audible enough for him to nod slowly.

"Mademoiselle, you have my oath." He smiled, a little too happily, and continued, "Eponine, I truly want to help you."

"But why?" She insisted, "You've never told me."

"Oh I have." He moved slowly to his chair and pressed his hands against the top of the seat, leaning against it and sighing longingly, "I have a particular fondness for you Thenardier, believe it or not."

She winced, "Excuse me?"

"Oh it's not what you think." He clarified, "I'm not in love with you dear girl. It's just fondness. I don't know what it is, really. Maybe it's because I thought you had watched your husband die and, er, related to you."

"What are you talking about? I'm not marr-" and then she remembered the lie Enjolras had fed him and she had worked so hard to make him believe. The bitter seed they had planted within him.

"Oh but I didn't know that before now did I?" He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear, "I watched my father die in front of my eyes. And now I'm watching my University crumble beneath my feet. We've been growing closer and closer to bankruptcy since his death. Everything I love is leaving."

The waif couldn't believe what she was hearing. She couldn't believe how nonchalantly this information was being delivered to her, how invested he seemed in the University she thought he didn't give a damn about, and how genuine he sounded... What was happening?

"You, you and your story, intrigue me." He met her eyes in a long gaze filled with something Eponine either couldn't, or strongly didn't want to, place her finger on, "I don't want you to get hurt. I'm asking you to trust me enough to let me help you not get hurt."

"Y-you aren't lying...?"

He stuck out his hand, "All you have to do is tell me where you're going so that I can arrange for someone to safely accommodate you all."

She eyed the hand carefully. Watched how it didn't move or shake, how it was sturdy and strong. How much it reminded her of the man of marble.

Then she took it.

...

**A/N: **_*Sweats nervously* ... Well it's been another super super super long time hasn't it? Does anyone even still read or care about this? I hope so! I also hope this still makes some sort of sense cause it's almost been another year since I've written. I'm currently in my first year of university, so for any of you who have been there, you know how busy things can get! It's crazy but it's AMAZING! It also allows me to have large increments of time where I can work on anything I want *cough cough fanfiction*. Now that I have made my first step to a full return, please review! Let me know what you think! I'll be uploading more frequently with the more reviews I get, because as my regular readers know, it is probably the only thing that gives me motivation! So please review!_

Also, side note, I went back and read the reviews for Moonless Skies and I honestly felt so humbled and so honoured to know that there are people who enjoy my writing and my plot bunnies and look forward to what I write! So, even though I am the slowest updater I know, know that I love you all and hope you enjoy xx - Magakee (Meg)


	9. Turning

** Turning  
**

Joviendre tapped his pen quickly on the glossy, worn, mahogany surface of his desk. He had thought meticulously about what his offer would be to the girl. He had explained exactly what was to happen in the next three weeks, and three weeks exactly. There was a time, date, and place set for every step along the way and all Eponine had to do was agree to it all.

"And what? All of these people will agree to this?" She shook her head, "I'm not quite sure I want to believe you."

"You don't have to darling," he set his pen aside and met her eyes with a hard glare, "but I think we're both aware of how desperately you want to."

Eponine found herself biting her tongue back from snapping at him. But he had a point. She knew very well that her very life was hanging desperately by a thread and that if she severed that thread, even by accident, Henri wouldn't have a mother, or worse, any hope of a life ahead of him.

"So let's assume that I agree to this," she looked away from him, "how do I know where to go next?" She moved closer to him, step by step, tracing the map he had laid out on the desk with her finger.

"I'll be sending you letter, twice a week that will either confirm or deny your next departure."

"And if I don't get one?"

"Then you'll know somethings happened to me and then we're all screwed."

She took an angry breath and raised an eyebrow, "Fine."

Joviendre grinned, "You're really agreeing to this?"

"Do I have a choice?" She rolled her eyes, "I don't need to answer to you."

"Oh, but you do. How else will I know where you dearest amis will be next? And if you'll even get there al –"

"Enough!" She slammed her fist against the wall and Joviendre sat up a little straighter.

His fingers tapped furiously against his pant leg.

"So that's that?" He questioned, his bitter gaze burning through her as they locked eyes, "Deal's done?"

She grabbed his hand before he could offer it and shook it once, "Done."

And she did not exchange glances with him as she departed and she did not stop when she heard him mutter something under his breath or grunt in protest.

She had news to share, and the sooner she did it the better.

...

Musichetta stared blankly out the window. Her eyes didn't graze across the horizon, across the peach coloured sky with dashes of pink streaked across it like brush strokes upon a canvas. She didn't notice how still the air was, how the grass didn't move with the wind and send bunches of dandelions flying out into the sky like it normally would. She didn't even notice Enjolras' reflection on the bottom left corner of the window, his golden hair growing so long that it covered his hard, azure eyes as he too contemplated things unknown to her.

Musichetta was busy. Her mind was running so quickly she felt as though her body couldn't catch up and that it never would.

Enjolras grunted, a sudden pain in his leg crawling up his spine.

The girl's head shot up, "Are you alright?"

The man let out the breath he'd been holding in, moving his hair out of his face with his forearm, "I'm fine."

"Are you?" The girl spun around to meet his eyes, "You've been saying that an awful lot Enjolras."

He shrugged, slowly levering himself off the ground, minding the scabs forming on his previously mangled fingers, "Mademoiselle, I'm fine."

"Suit yourself." She sung, "But I'm changing your gauze today. I don't want you forming an infection."

"Mademoiselle, you don't have t-"

"Yes I do." She broke her gaze from his and turned back to the window, grabbing the cloth that laid on its pane, wiping the smudges she could make out on its glass, "I know it's not the most comfortable thing, Monsieur, but I –" she took a deep breath and set her cloth down miserably, "I know you have to get back on your feet soon."

She moved towards him, sitting beside his cot and sighing.

"Mademoiselle, I can wash myself. I assure you," he grunted as Musichetta's hand brushed against his own.

"What? That you can do this alone?" She grinned and held his hand within her own, watching him bite back his tears, "Does that seem comfortable to you? Wait until the water hits it, won't that be lovely!?"

The man of marble frowned and looked away from her once again, "Fine."

She smiled, "Wonderful."

Pulling the water basin next to his bed, she began unbuttoning his shirt and pants, revealing the long scars and burns all along his toned skin.

She had a habit of looking away when she washed him, and he looked over her shoulder too, ensuring that the situation wouldn't embarrass them both more than it already was. Whilst Enjolras felt as though he could fill a book with reasons he hated his predicament, the way Musichetta pitied him, and the aching, growing hole in his heart that longed for Henri and Eponine, Musichetta felt the exact opposite. She felt a yearning for the man she was trying to fix for his beloved, a sadness that consumed her from knowing every man she had been with was either dead, gone or as good as both. She could never tell the man how she really felt, he was too preoccupied with Eponine. Why the hell would Musichetta have ever mattered to him?

He let out a yelp of pain as Musichetta ran over the bloody scar on his leg.

"Sorry." She muttered, taking extra care as she poured water over it, hoping to put out the fire in his bones he must have been feeling.

"No need to be sorry." He grunted, "I admire the patience you have, it's astounding."

The girl suddenly felt compelled to look in his eyes once more, her hand frozen over his right tricep, "What?"

Enjolras kept his eyes shut, "You've always been so patient. I would have been sick of myself by now."

"Are you?" She felt tempted to stroke his jaw line with her fingers, to kiss his cheeks and to tell him everything would be okay. Then she scoffed, "I mean,"

"No." He interrupted, "I am terribly sick of myself Mademoiselle."

She frowned, "Well that's no good."

He grinned, "You humour me."

"Lovely." She let go of her cloth with a splat on the hardwood, "Oh merdre!"

Enjolras' eyes snapped open and he was met with Musichetta running off to fetch a new cloth.

"It's a wonder you aren't married yet." He muttered, "You'd make quite a wife."

She laughed, the pressure in her throat burning, "You're just saying that Monsieur. If you don't mind, I'd like to finish this as soon as possible…"

"Likewise." He agreed, wincing when she ran the new both across his torso, "But I wasn't lying."

She threw her cloth in the water, "Aren't you supposed to be heartless, Monsieur?'

"Excuse me?"

"They'd talk about you, you know, at the university and all the cafes. About the man of marble with the heart of stone."

"And two near death experiences, a child, and over a year cannot change him?" He chuckled, "Funny how life works."

"Very." She agreed, "And about being a wife, I'd never find a man who'd want to take me. Your very friend left me the second he got the chance."

Enjolras shook his head, "You loved you."

"Not enough." She grabbed her cloth out of the basin and wrang it, scowling miserably at the reflection she saw within it, "If you could find one man who'd take me, I'll repay you with anything you wish."

"I'd take you." He was blunt, his expression blank.

The girl couldn't find her voice, the fire in her throat engulfing her from within, "W-what?"

"If I had not met Eponine, I would have taken you. You are devout, committed – if Joly had not taken you the old me might have."

"But Patria…"

"Exactly." He smirked, "I was so in love with Patria it would have been an impossible feat to fall in love with anyone Musichetta. Things have changed now."

"And what if Eponine never existed?"

The man was silent, a fire of his very own starting from within, "Then I'd have to reconsider my very own existence."

She nodded, a silent "oh" slipping out of her mouth, and she continued scrubbing the blue-black bruises that plagued the man's body.

...

Eponine was never an articulate woman. She did not like to go into detail. Through years of building a sturdy, brick wall around her, she was used to bottling her feelings inside of her. The only time her feelings had poured out, in the same bloody state her bullet wound was in, was during her confession to Marius at the barricades. And the multiple times she had conversed with Enjolras over the past year and a half… However this time, much to les amis surprise, Eponine was brimming with information.

She outlined the plan extremely carefully:

1 week was needed to walk from Paris to Geneva given that they all walked 24 hours every day, which, as Joly was very much thankful for, would be impossible. So, Joviendre had devised a careful plan. He would reach out to his contacts in 8 cities along their designated route and ensure that they would accommodate the bunch till the next inn was ready to take them in. And so, their journey of one week would take nearly a month, but if it ensured their lives and safety, they were all willing to wait a little longer.

"So when's the first inn going to be ready?" Joly raised an eyebrow.

"And where will it be?" His wife chimed in.

Eponine held Henri a little tighter in her arms and sighed, "In two days."

Grantaire flinched, "What!?"

Azelma counted something on her fingers and then looked at Eponine with a mixture of fear and excitement, "That means we have to leave tomorrow!"

The waif nodded slowly.

"Eponine," Joly started, "you've failed to answer one thing, if I may intrude…"

"What?"

He shook his head, "What's the catch? There's no way in hell this man's being so generous for no reason… I know about his reputation Eponine."

"As do I." She grimaced, "But I can assure you, the plan is going to work."

Julie seemed as though she wanted to say something but shut her mouth soon after.

Joly sensed the girl's discomfort and stepped in, "Now if that's all, we have a big day tomorrow. I suggest you all pack your valuables and leave anything unnecessary back here. Our lives are the most important things to carry."

Azelma giggled and Courfeyrac grabbed her hand earnestly. Les amis spread throughout the house in seconds, leaving Eponine breathless in the centre of the family room.

She knew very well that nothing came without a cost. She just couldn't afford to tell them yet.

...

**A/N: _When you have to write a chapter twice because the first time you saved it your computer disconnected from the wifi so everything got erased... Yeah. That was fun. But I updated (surprised myself a little too)! :D Also thanks judybear236, RavenCurls, BurningStorm, shadows-of-1832, and all the lovely guests for the support and reviews last chapter! Enjoy xx_**


	10. La Lune et le Soleil

**La Lune et Le Soleil**

**_(The Moon and The Sun)_**

The night was calm. The moon hung low, bright and eloquent against the black canvas of the sky. Musichetta watched it with longing in her emerald eyes, recounting the story of the moon and the sun, and how deeply the moon loved her counterpart despite knowing that they could never be together.

She chuckled under her breath; _how pathetic_...

The man of marble was nestled on the couch behind her, flipping through one of the medical books Joly had left behind, slightly offput by the graphic imagery depicted in the chapter on stomach ulcers. He shuddered.

"Don't tell me you've ever read this," he cleared his throat, "Musichetta?"

She pivoted rather quickly, off put by the sudden ringing on his voice in what was the near dead silence between them.

She breathed deeply, "What?"

"I was just asking you if you'd read these books before?"

Her eyes seemed to avoid his, "Um, well, I have. But I can't say I enjoyed them much..."

"It's a bit graphic, isn't it?"

"No, it's not that. I don't mind looking at that kind of thing, clearly," she eyed his bandages scornfully, then sighed, "I read them for, erm, him. So he'd think I was interested."

"Oh." He grinned solemnly, "That's quite lovely of you."

"Didn't Eponine ever do that?"

The man's azure eyes also avoided hers, "She can't, um, read, Mademoiselle. Well, she couldn't when we first met."

Just as a sense of pride shone within her he added, "Besides she wasn't one to do those things. She has her priorities set straight."

She stuck up her nose, "And I don't?"

He cleared his throat once more, "Could we stop this conversation, _s'il vous plait_?"

Musichetta's skin seemed to boil then, though she wasn't sure exactly why.

"Now, if you please, I'll continue reading this lovely chapter on_ des_ _maladies du l'estomach_."

She nodded slowly, "Alright."

And then she averted her attention back to the sky, wondering how similar her story would grow to become. The plain moon with the ordinary girl, both too afraid to touch the magnificent person they loved for fear of burning, or in her case, never feeling the yearning of love grow in her heart again. Enjolras was too preoccupied with his Eponine, the Earth he shined down upon. An Earth that was blooming with flowers and bursting with colours, vibrant and lovely against the greens and blues that enveloped its every crevice. With something of that magnitude to care for, who would ever pay attention to the plain, ugly grey of the moon?

And just under that luminous grey of the moon, beaming down upon the Parisian horizon, Eponine Thenardier could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. Her breathe caught in her throat with every breath, and every step that landed her farther and farther from home caused her very bones to ache. But, she had known exhaustion many times in her life.

For one thing, when she had given birth, although day and night blended together in a mess of pain, sweat, tears and an excruciating yearning to see her child, the only thing she was consciously aware of was how exhausted she had been the whole time.

Then, there was the days her parents owned the Inn. Stealing, running away from angry shop owners who'd throw rocks at her from their barred windows, avoiding Montparnasse and Cosette - her life had been nothing short of tiring. She could barely catch her breath most of the time.

And of course, there was this. This mess she had caused and lead, leaving trails of bruises on the soles of her feet, the tears of Henri smudged across her shoulders, and of course, the drunk babbling of Grantaire narrating each step she took.

The splash of his brandy against the bottle in his hand seemed to send echoes across the silence spreading between the group, minus is dialogue of course. Joly's feet suddenly made a sad _thump _against the dirt as he skidded to a slow and steady stop. Eponine raised an eyebrow, suddenly causing the rest of the group to slow in their tracks too.

"What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "I'm exhausted."

Azlema was quick to agree, "I can't feel my feet any longer!"

"And if I have to listen to Grantaire babble on and on for a minute longer, I'll lose any sense I have left!" Courfeyrac finished off, earning himself a long, angst filled glare from the drunk.

"So what do you want me to do!?" She shook, "I've been carrying another person this entire time! And oh how he's been crying..." She felt the breath catch in her throat, the way it did when she'd think too much about her life without Enjolras. How hard it had grown... "Anyhow we're almost there. Please, please bear it only a little longer."

"Almost there." Joly repeated with a subtle smirk, "I'm sorry Eponine."

She raised an eyebrow, "For what exactly?"

"I can't bring myself to trust Joviendre. This is ridiculous. Pure ridiculousness! Who does this for a group of revolutionaries they've never met before!?"

"Someone who's clearly in love with her," Azelma began, stopping only when Eponine's glare sent shivers down her spine.

"Be that as it may," he continued, "I'm just worried we're walking right into a - a trap!"

Julie gripped his hand tighter, fiddling with the ring on his finger, "_Calme toi. _We've already come this far. We can afford a few more steps, can't we? Eponine wouldn't hurt us. She loves us."

The waif felt tears spring to her eyes, though she couldn't tell whether they were due to the exhaustion or the sudden rush of emotion words of comfort had left her to feel.

"She's right." Cosette sang, "I can feel comfort only a few steps away."

Eponine nodded, "Very well then. For better or for worse, we've made it this far haven't we?"

Joly nodded, "You're all right. Maybe I really am too tired for my own good."

His wife laughed, "Finally some sense." She kissed his cheeks and continued moving forward.

Eponine smiled sadly, unable to bring herself to think of anything else but a bed and some place to lay Henri down. Oh how she needed a bed... Oh how she needed to sleep to forget about the promise she had made Joviendre. The promise she couldn't bring herself to tell the others no matter how it caused her to ache with every step they took further from home. Oh how she needed to forget the burning fire that had been nesting in her heart from the day she'd made the deal with him onwards...

And perhaps if she hadn't been so preoccupied with thoughts of Monsieur Joviendre, she would have heard the gallops of the horses behind them all, and perhaps even moved in time for the bullet to miss her arm.

But she did not.

_**A/N:**__ Haha *sweats*. I feel like this is going to be a regular thing with me; not writing for months and then popping up out of the blue and updating with another apology. Speaking of that apology - I am sosososo sorry for not updating again! On the flip side of that, I've finished school so that means LOTSA writing time and hopefully lots of updates! My heart is always, in some way, with this fic and I will finish no matter how much time passes or how many of you are still reading this. I'm also sorry if the update makes less sense than usual, it /has/ been a while since I've written it. But regardless, I hope you enjoy! Please review, you know how much those mean to me! Thanks again everyone xx_

_(Also thank a BUNCH to last chapters reviewers, you guys are the bestest. Reading what you had to say made my many weeks :3)_


	11. Shadows

**Shadows**

Eponine felt a scream escape her lips, ripping raw through her throat, though whether it was elicited through the sudden pain that struck her arm or the way she dropped Henri would remain a mystery. Her legs stumbled over themselves again and again and again, until she teetered between the beaten path and the river below them, desperately trying to ignore the soldiers suddenly jumping from the carriages that followed.

"HANDS UP!" They demanded, all too quick, watching in twisted pleasure as the distraught group obeyed. Azelma quickly dipped to grab Henri, cradling the crying baby as she eyed his mother desperately trying to stop blood from pouring out of her bullet wound.

Eponine's breaths were shallow, filled with desperation and passion, much like her "final" moments at the barricades. She felt her knees give out beneath her once again as she stumbled closer to the ledge.

"GET IN!" They demanded once more, grabbing Julie, who was unfortunately at the head of the group, and dragging her into what she only presumed was a carriage headed for prison.

"No…" Eponine managed to muster, trying her best to move towards them, "No!"

A national guard sprang towards her suddenly, screaming at her to shut up before lifting her brutally by her injured arm. She observed him as best as she could through blurred vision. He was short and stumpy looking, missing a tooth or two but still managing to smile as sinisterly as she had ever seen. His eyes looked like those of a snake, ready to strangle its prey. Just when she anticipated another shot to her fragile frame, he opened his mouth and clicked his tongue.

"What have we here? You look awfully," he scrunched his nose, "familiar…"

The waif was certain she had never met him before… "Leave me alone."

"You've got some nerve on you!" He laughed, reaching into his pocket for the gun as Eponine had anticipated. Just then, a scream filled the air, and the waif was certain it wasn't hers. Before she could investigate the source, the wind was knocked out of her and she felt the cool waters of the river below her envelop her body.

She couldn't swim.

**()()()**

Enjolras had been reading for three days now, precisely, and Musichetta had counted each one of the passing hours. Why? Well primarily because she had absolutely nothing better to do other than, of course, obsessing over why she had been stupid enough to save this man and condemn herself to a life of wondering why she found him so… interesting.

She clicked her tongue obnoxiously, earning an annoyed glance from the man of marble who slammed his book shut.

"Well, well," Musichetta mused, "finally finished?"

He smirked, "Are you really that interested in my musings, Mademoiselle?"

"Does it look like I have anything better to do?" She sighed, "I'm bored."

"All because I'm finally able to move my fingers? Don't get to excited, I still have a long way before I can finally –" he stopped himself.

"Go back to your family?" She concluded, "I know all too well what you're about to say next. You've been here for far too long."

"That's a bit unnessary isn't it? You could have just let me die, you know." He smiled cruelly, like he did sometimes, "But you're far too kind."

She grimaced, "Save it for your Eponine."

"She's not mine, Mademoiselle."

"Oh but I beg to differ. Besides, we've spoken on this subject far too many times before. You would marry her in a heartbeat all over again, unless she ceased to exist, in which case you would not have thought of such a fate for the rest of your life, perfectly content with your Patria." She laughed briefly, "I do quite sound like you, don't I? I'm proud of myself, really."

He rolled his eyes and smirked, "Perhaps I should write I letter to her then? I am feeling quite a bit more like myself. Perhaps she'll receive it."

"In Paris? Do you really think she's still there?" Musichetta shook her head, "You must find her first. Wouldn't want that letter landing in the wrong hands, would you? It's not safe around here these days."

"Were you always so brilliant?" He remarked, then swiftly returned to contemplating his idea.

Though she couldn't tell whether it was sarcasm or not, she curtsied bitterly and turned her back to him.

Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, but clamped it shut once the door swung open to an elderly woman with the same mess of inky hair as her daughter.

Musichetta's mother was peculiarly old considering her daughters age, but Enjolras was certain that every wrinkle upon her face told a story he couldn't even fathom. She was harsh and brusk, just like her daughter, and out of the handful of times he had met her, Enjolras could have sworn he were speaking to Musichetta in forty long years.

However this time, it was not the same excitable elderly woman who walked through the door, for she wore an expression of misery and shock, sprinkled with doubt and fear. Emotions Enjolras knew far too well.

"Maman, what's wrong?" Musichetta quickly caught on, springing from her seat and tearing the newspaper out of her mother's hands, "Maman?"

Her mother ignored her and instead spun towards the man, "You should leave this place."  
"Excuse me?"

Musichetta furrowed her eyebrows as she read the article plastered to the front of the paper she held in her hands, "Oh mon dieu…" She felt her breathing quicken, her heart beating violently in her chest.

"You're in imminent danger my boy." Her mother concluded, "And I would leave before your heart breaks any more."

The man forced himself to stand, grunting through the process till her was upright, "Give me that." He extended a strong arm towards the girl, "Hurry up."

"No, I-" she sniffled, "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" He clenched his jaw, "Musichetta give that to me."

Her mother shook her head, "It's best you don't ask any questions boy. Go on your way, far from here… Before it's too late."

"What are you saying?" The girl suddenly burst, "He'll be killed!"

Unable to bear it any longer, the boy lept forward in agony and grabbed the paper. Upon it was written:

**_National Convicts Found Dead in River North of Paris_**

_The search for the party responsible for the Barricades of Paris, resulting in death of many dutiful National Soldiers, has finally ended. Found drowned are:_

_Monsieur Laurent Joly_  
_Madame Jules Joly_  
_Monsieur Alexandre Courfeyrac_  
_Monsieur Richard Grantaire_  
_Monsieur Marius Pontmercy_  
_Madame Cosette Pontmercy_  
_Leur petit Fille Juliette Pontmercy_  
_Mademoiselle Azelma Jeanvieve Thenardier_  
_Madame Eponine Jondrette Thenardier_  
_Sa petit garcon Henri Thenardier-Enjolras_

_Those that are missing include Monsieur Etienne Enjolras and Mademoiselle Musichetta Delistta. Upon discovery, contact your National Guards immediately. They are threats and should be taken as such._

Enjolras had not realized that he had fallen after putting the paper down. Nor did he realize that there were tears streaming down his cheeks in a fashion he had never imagined. He could not breathe, and he was certain the bright colours of the sun had turned into shadowy figures of black and grey, dancing menacingly in front of him. He felt something grab onto him and shake him before his breathe caught in his throat and the shadows, playing in front of him like devils, disappeared into a black abyss.


	12. Revelation

_**A/N:** __These next few chapters including this one have a **Trigger Warning** just because there is a lot revolving around death. Thank you as usual for reviews, favourite, follows and for reading xx_

**Revelation**

On June 5th, 1832, one Miss Eponine Jondrette Thenardier should have died, among countless other young, passionate revolutionaries, but by some miracle, she survived, bound to sporadic nightmares about the night she nearly lost her life at the hands of the man she thought she could have laid her life down for. It was not the first time she had knocked at death's door, having grown up with convicts as parents and a rowdy Montparnasse to take a few years off her clock, she was no stranger to the feeling that it would all be over very soon.

But as her flesh fell into the icy core of the river below them, as something tackled the wind out of her lungs and left her gasping for the air she could not find, Eponine Jondrette Thenardier did not expect death. It was only hours later, when she woke shivering in a pond of her own sweat and blood, that she had realized perhaps death might have been a better option.

"Oh mon dieu…" The voice she heard was barely audible, but urgent and approaching, "Epo- Eponine! EPONINE!"

She sat upright slowly taking her time to rub a hand over her swollen eyes.

She found herself only able to say a few words, "H…Henri. Where is Henri?"

The voice placed its hand upon her clammy forehead, clicking his tongue and murmuring, "A fever. You have to rest. We'll be stuck here for a few days."

"But Henri –" she opened her eyes feverishly to find them greeting Joly, and Julie who was holding her baby boy with pride.

"Oh thank God." The waif found her breath again and analyzed the room.

The walls were all cherry wood and worn, like they had been trying their very best to stay solid after so many long years. The floors were also wooden, but a type of colour Eponine had never seen. Her bed was crammed against the wall, an open view to the rest of her party, also laying in what looked like puddles of sweat, except nobody was bleeding but her.

She propped her hand beneath her and yelped, "Ah!"

"You may want to rest this arm." Joly quickly grabbed it and analyzed the bandages, "Luckily no infection as of yet."

She raised an eyebrow, "So I was really shot at? Again…"

He smirked, "Unfortunately that seems to be the trend. You're lucky Monsieur Joviendre has such good connections. I don't think the National Guards will be after us any longer."

Her mouth went dry suddenly, "…What?"

"Our darling Joviendre may not actually be the menace I suspected." He chuckled, "Though I may let Azelma tell you what happened after she pushed you into the water."

"She what!?"

"Oh yes! I guess you were too stunned to have noticed… She may as well have saved all of our lives."

Julie elaborated, "She pushed you into the water to distract the guards. That gave the rest of us enough time to stall them a bit and jump in with you…" She cleared her throats, "And the way we were all there in that river, well, I'm certain everyone in France knows about us now."

Her blood suddenly ran cold, "You mean they think we died? How is that even,"

"Ah, that's where Joviendre came in." Joly nodded slowly, "The inn keepers here are quite the aquaintances he's made. They convinced the national guard of our demise, even volunteered to right that bit in the paper." He tossed it towards her and she stared in awe at the cover.

She shook her head, "You mean we're dead to the public?" The waif nearly brought herself to sigh in much needed relief, but suddenly stopped, her eyes glancing over a certain sentence in horror.

_Those that are missing include Monsieur Etienne Enjolras and Mademoiselle Musichetta Delistta. Upon discovery, contact your National Guards immediately. They are threats and should be taken as such._

**()()()**

Though his supposedly deceased lover had woken in a similar position, covered in copious amounts of sweat and a feeling of dread in her heart, Enjolras woke feeling as though he would never heal. Perhaps if he had died from shock, then he could have been with Eponine and Henri sooner than this fate he seemed to be bound to.

As his eyes fluttered open, Musichetta's widened, red from crying and worry, "Enjolras! Enjolras!"  
Her arms found refuge around him, holding him close to her as he came to terms with what had just happened, "You're awake!" She gasped in between weeps.

_Eponine was dead. Henri was dead. All his friends were dead…_ Had it been too much to end everything at the barricades, at a fate he was willing to accept before his life was altered permanently by love and a child? Was it too much for life to hand him a future in which he could have died happily for the sake of Patria rather than living through the torture and pain this life had left him with.

He had not realized he had been crying until his head fell into Musichetta's shoulder, convulsing in pain as he shook from the sheer weight of his grief.

She patted his mess of golden locks, fighting back tears of her own as she came to terms with her fate. She was a wanted woman; oh how she never imagine being in such irreversible trouble. And yet, her irrefutable destiny was tied with the man she held so close to herself, and in that, she found twisted comfort.

"I have to go." He scoffed suddenly, separating himself from her and wiping tears reluctantly off his scarlet cheeks, "I can't stay here."

"You're leaving? After all this? Are you mad!?"

"You can't stay here either! Otherwise we're both dead." He chuckled in delusion, "Though I can't say that would be too bad..."

"Enjolras stop –"

"No!" His voice shook the room, "MY FAMILY IS DEAD."

She heard her voice crack, "They wouldn't want you to throw your life away!"

"I have nothing here! There's nothing left for me on this Earth that brings me joy…"

She smiled solemnly, "Lovely. Well, if you wish to design your own deathbed, I won't stop you. I'm leaving."

His hysterics wore down quickly after that, "Wait, you can't possibly escape without being caught. You're not –"

"No." She sighed, "I'm not throwing my life away just yet. I have to find a way out..."

"You can't!" He sputtered, "Musichetta, you're a woman – they'll torture you -!"

"Yes I'm quite aware." She rolled her eyes, "What can I do about it? I'm in just as much trouble as you are! I can't hide myself away! I can't craft a new identity and start a new life, I'm – I'm doomed! My entire life is over and now I – I have to leave my mother," a hand flew to her mouth and her breathing increased rapidly, her heart beating in her chest as if it were just about to explode.

"Stop, stop!" He grasped onto her hand and held it, "I can't accept this."

"… What?"

"That the barricades are happening all over again." He sighed, "It's quite funny isn't it? The cruelty of life?" The tears began to well up in his eyes once more and Musichetta gazed in awe and sadness at a sight she thought she'd never see for as long as she lived.

The man of marble had broken. He was shattered and alone and all she could do was watch.

And so they sat together in bitter mourning till the sun had set and risen bright and shining once again. They had not slept, but rather cried out all the sadness they kept in their hearts, lying next to one another for what seemed to be an eternity that would go on till they themselves were finally as peace. If peace ever came.

Musichetta was the first one up, stretching her long limbs out and throwing her face in her hands. A numbness crept across them both, unsure of what to feel or to do with no substance left in their lives.

Enjolras joined in her quickly, without a word, eyes swollen and bloody from crying. His heart felt empty and broken. It was true what he had said about having nothing left now that the only family he had ever felt love for beyond Patria was gone. Oh how he wished things had turned out differently. How he could have reciprocated to Eponine sooner. How he could have told her he was madly in love with her. Was… He felt his chest tighten with anger.

Musichetta stood, staring out the window blankly at the sun. She did not wince at its brightness for all the tears she had shed hurt far more. Her soul ached not only for herself but for the man she never got to love again. The man who had married and died all within the same month who she missed so deeply. And she ached for Enjolras too, who she had not seen in such a human way before the terrible events that the day had brought.

She turned towards him to see him with his face in his hands.

"Would you like something to eat?" She was reluctant, having trouble finding her voice.

"No."

She nodded slowly and turned away, too sick to eat anything herself.

"Mademoiselle," he called out suddenly.

"Yes…?"

"Will you marry me?"


End file.
